Phoenix: Die Another Day
by Trickster-jz
Summary: The Vong war is almost over, but the invaders manage one last blow, leaving only one Jedi left in the galaxy. Now Jaina will come face to face with her destiny - if she can survive it. COMPLETE.
1. The Attack

**Phoenix: Die Another Day****   
By: Trickster_Jaina_Fel:**   
  
  
  


  
**Disclaimer**: yup, I ran into George Lucas at the little corner store down the street and he just _begged_ me to take the Star Wars universe, all its characters and planets and work my creative genius on them! _oh, Sithspawn! Here come the men in the white suits…how did the psychiatrists notice I was gone **already**? _:D  
**Rating**: PG…I'll let you know if it gets any higher, but i doubt it will.   
**Summary**: When the unthinkable happens, only one Jedi survives the war. Grief-stricken and alone, she struggles to rebuild the Jedi Order and her life while dealing with a tempermental apprentice, a well-meaning commander and a dark-sider that is obsessed with "his master".   
**Keywords**: drama, angst, action, mystery, OC's, Jaina Solo, some K/J   
**Note**: If this is the worst thing you ever read, let me know and I'll take it down or try again or whatever…and if by some miracle you like it: I love praise but constructive criticism is so much better! sigh I'm such a feedback junkie…   
and yes rolls eyes i know i'm crazy...and don't worry, i haven't forgotten about RotJ; posts will just be a little less frequent...   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*   
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *   
  
Part One: _Dying Embers_   
  
The young woman couldn't believer her luck. _Crashing on a sith-spawned swamp planet while probably the most important battle in the galaxy—_ever_—rages above my head!_ She frowned in intense irritation and hopped out of her X-wing, using the Force to carry her R-2 unit with her. The murky water came up to her mid-chest and she half-sloughed, half-swam out to what looked like dry land.   
  
Sighing dejectedly she watched as her X-wing began to sink deeper and deeper into the water. _Well, so much for being part of the great Naboo battle. And isn't Naboo supposed to be some tropical retreat or something? How come I had to land in probably the only swamp on this planet?_   
  
She sighed again and plopped down, hardly caring that she landed in mud. As an after thought, she glanced at her chrono. _Okay, so unless someone picks me up pretty quick I'm missing the meeting with the Jedi too. " 'All Jedi_ must _attend a very important meeting. It is vital that you attend and be on time,_' " she repeated to herself. "Yeah, right.   
  
"I can just imagine my apology now: Sorry Master Skywalker. I got taken out by…well, _grutchins_—yes, me, taken out by a bunch of animals—actually and landed smack in a swamp! All alone! Can you believe it? And then I started talking to myself." She gave a mirthless snort and moved some of her hair out of her face then turned her face upward to watch the rest of the battle from the ground.   
  
***   
  
A man smiled smugly as he pointed the tattered shuttle out to the warmaster. "It is just there, Warmaster. That is the _Eclipse_, the Jedi hide-out."   
  
The Warmaster's eyes narrowed. _At last,_ he thought to himself. _I will have the _jeedai. _This galaxy is a gift from the gods. I shall take it._ He turned sharply to the Peace Brigader before him. "You will be rewarded, but not today. _Today_ will be for the slaughtering and sacrificing of the _jeedai." And when the jeedai come to meet, I will be here. Myself and a worldship and several fleets. After this, there will never be another jeedai. The twin sacrifice will at last be done. Those blasted Solo's cannot fight it.   
  
I have won._   
  
~*~*~ 

Hilra'an Clat sighed and flew into the _Eclipse. See? Nothing to have a bad feeling about. Nothing at all._ However, his assurances fell short and he moved out of the cockpit slowly, hand on his lightsaber. His "bad-feeling" intensified when he noticed that every single Jedi that he could see was nervous as well.   
  
Shivering, he followed the others out of the docking bay.   
  
***   
  
The young woman on Naboo had long since made a shelter and now huddled under it as it began to pour. _Geez, you'd think they'd notice I'm missing,_ she thought. Then, considering how they would contact her—through her comlink, which was at the bottom of the swamp with her X-wing—she decided that it would be better if they didn't. _They'd think I was dead. Not good._   
  
As she began snacking on her rations bar she became overwhelmed by a Force-warning. _Danger!_ it screeched. She smacked her hands over her ears as if it could block the mental screech. It wasn't for her, she recognized immediately, but for people close to her. She shivered as dread's icy fingers clutched at her throat, more and more tightly as it climaxed. And then her head began to explode as it began.

~*~*~

Hilra'an watched in horror as thousands-no, hundreds of thousands, maybe millions-of Yuuzhan Vong began to board the _Eclipse_. The space battle had been a brief massacre. _It won't be able to compare to what's about to happen,_ Hilra'an thought with dread. Hilra'an drew his lightsaber, the motion and snap-hiss echoing around the large docking bay.   
  
The Yuuzhan Vong gave a war cry and charged, their tattered mouths all showing the same, smug grin. _They know_, Hilra'an thought, sick to his stomach. _They know all the Jedi are here. And they're about to wipe us out._ The same thought seemed to occur to all the Jedi and they fought even more furiously as Yuuzhan Vong and Jedi fell left and right. The docking bay was becoming a graveyard.   
  
All too soon Hilra'an's time came. Ten Yuuzhan Vong were headed in his direction. And in that moment before his inevitable doom, Hilra'an knew what he had to do. It was time to stop playing Jedi and _be_ a Jedi.   
  
It seemed odd that at this moment—the moment before his death, maybe even at the moment of the death of the Jedi—that he would find the answer to the question that all people asked themselves for as long as anyone could remember: Who am I?   
  
At last, Hilra'an knew who he was. Centering himself, he immersed himself completely in the Force. Something that-up until now-only two Jedi had tried: Ganner Rhysode and Anakin Solo.   
  
_Both of whom are dead now_, Hilra'an realized. He held no false hopes. He was going to die, and he knew it. But if he was going to die he planned on taking out as many Yuuzhan Vong as possible. And he did. As his soul entwined with the Force, letting it take over his actions, he began moving in a deadly dance.   
  
Hilra'an Clat, Jedi Knight, _became_ the battle. He was not aware of the seemingly infinite number of carcasses that fell at his feet. Nor was he aware that the other Jedi—seeing what he was doing—were following his example. Hilra'an was not conscious of anything.   
  
He simply was.   
  
He was Hilra'an Clat.   
  
Jedi Knight.   
  
Hero.   
  
Friend.   
  
Son.   
  
Brother.   
  
Hilra'an Clat.   
  
When he died, he died with a smile on his face.   
  
*** 

The young woman on Naboo paled as she felt a hundred presences disappear from the Force.   
  
Very _important_, brilliant presences.   
  
The presences of all the Jedi.   
  
Minus one.   
  
The one that didn't disappear was left to feel the death of Luke Skywalker's Jedi Order. She screamed as she felt all of her Force-bonds break. First it was her father, then her mother who became clumsy upon her grief at her husband's death. Then it was her friends, falling, one by one. _If friends are the family you choose then I am two-times an orphan_, she thought bleakly between anguished cries. Her aunt and—_Force, no!_—her baby cousin.   
  
A brilliant flare and then a blackhole in her heart and the Force as her uncle died. And then— "_NO_!" she screamed, even as the two most important bonds in her life broke and ripped her heart to shreds and sent her body into shock. _NONONONONO! Sweet Force, NO! Please!_ she thought wildly. _Is it my destiny to suffer for all time? Is it?!_ "_No_," she whispered just before the shock of everything she held dear being ripped away from her became too much for her body and blackness swallowed her.

~TJF


	2. The Wrath of Yun Harla

Harrar watched impatiently as the shapers-unused to manual labor as they were-moved the bodies off the _jeedai_, Jaina Solo. At last the shapers moved the last body and Harrar got his first close-up look of the _jeedai_ that had caused him so much trouble and doubt.   
  
Harrar had heard that humans considered the Solo female attractive. Petite even by human standards, her brown hair fell loosely around her shoulders as if to hide her face from observers and her features were often centered around a taunting smirk. In her hand she clutched a lightsaber loosely, a weapon she used with a deadly grace that even a Yuuzhan Vong warrior could admire.   
  
However, none of these were what scared the priest of Yun-Harla the most. What scared Harrar more than anything about Jaina Solo was her eyes. Cold, calculating and mischievous all at the same time, he could see trick after trick being planned in her eyes.   
  
Even more frightening was the fact that Harrar had seen the kind of tricks she planned and they filled even him, the high priest of Yun-Harla the Trickster goddess, with a dread of the supernatural. A dread that told him more clearly than anything else that this _jeedai_ was indeed the Trickster goddess that she claimed to be.   
  
The Trickster raised her eyes to Harrar's and sneered. "Pathetic," she hissed. "You are truly pathetic. How is it that my own priest does not even recognize Me until now?" she demanded mercilessly. Without so much as bending she flew up into a standing position. "You gave homage to Yun-Yammka, and yet you accuse Me of being a heretic!"   
  
Harrar sank to his knees before her. "Oh Great One, forgive me of my sins! You are truly the Goddess of all Deities." The shapers, surprised by his moves stared at each in horror, realizing that if the priest of Yun-Harla recognized this female as his goddess, then she must surely be who she claimed to be and they all dropped to the floor in reverence.   
  
There was a long pause then, "Perhaps…I shall be merciful. For a price."   
  
Harrar felt his heart stop beating. "Anything, Oh Great One. I am at Your service."   
  
"Kill your many-times damned _'Warmaster'_. He is a disgrace."   
  
"My Holy One, I am not a warrior and he is the warrior of warriors. I cannot best him."   
  
"Arise." Yun-Harla's voice was low, thick with menace as she waved an imperious hand to include the shapers as well as the priest. "Look into my eyes, Unfaithful one." Harrar stared, terrified of what he would find in the eyes of the One he had tried to serve all his life. Unexpectedly, her eyes were almost curious and pitying.   
  
"If you will not kill him," She continued, "Betrayer of Priests, then I must assume that you have no faith in Me and My Abilities. You say you are not a warrior. I am the Trickster Goddess. How do you know that I did not have a trick for you?" Harrar's eyes widened in horror as she continued. "For your lack of faith in Me you are a coward. Because you will not kill the warmaster I will kill him myself as well as you and these pathetic excuses for 'shapers' that are really heretics in disguise!"   
  
The Trickster's eyes flared and Harrar saw the most perfect Trick ever. The Trick that meant his death.

~*~*~

An aging general, silver streaks in his hair and an ever-so-slight limp in his walk, sighed and leaned back into his chair, staring at his hands steepled as if they held the answer to the universe. The battle had been won and because of it, perhaps the war as well.   
  
_So why does victory taste so empty?_   
  
His wife, still beautiful even after all these years, bounded into the room with a beautiful smile on her laugh-and-worry-lined face. "Well, general, that was the perfect victory, if I do say so myself."   
  
The man smiled and tried to push away his unfocused doubts. "Yes, it was, wasn't it?"   
  
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Is it just me or did that sound more like a reassurance than a cocky statement?"   
  
He rubbed his eyes. "Something just feels off." He offered her a tired grin. "Call me crazy but I could swear there were more skips at the beginning of the fight than there were at the end."   
  
She snorted. "That's kind of the _point_, dear. When you win a fight there should be less skips at the end of the fight than there were at the beginning."   
  
He looked at her. "Oh. Right." He hesitated. "Is it just me or did half the skips disappear all at once?"   
  
She opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a Gungan aide running into the room, big ears flopping. "General!" it cried. "Yousa beta come to the grand controls quick! Theresa trouble."   
  
He and his wife shared a look. "I'll see you later," she said. "I have to go over some reports anyway."   
  
The general nodded both his acknowledgement-to his wife-and his thanks-to the gungan-but his eyes were only for the leaving Gungan. _I have a bad feeling about this._   
  
***   
  
Tsavong Lah, warmaster to the Yuuzhan Vong, marched through the endless bodies. Not a single being—_jeedai_, Yuuzhan Vong, or otherwise-that had been in the battle was alive but none of this impressed him.   
  
"Where is the _jeedai_ that I demanded be kept alive?" he demanded an unfortunate warrior.   
  
The warrior pointed to the corner of the large room where there seemed to be nearly a third of the Yuuzhan Vong bodies. Harrar, priest of Yun-Harla, and several shapers were standing in a circle, staring at something in a mixture of awe and something that Tsavong Lah could not immediately place. But when he realized what it was—fear—his mind could still not comprehend it. Because he did not understand immediately, he never would.

~*~*~

The girl regained consciousness to the sound of someone—probably a Gungan, her foggy mind told her—tramping through the swamp. For all of two seconds she forgot what had happened but then she felt her lightsaber and the memories flooded back into her mind. In that moment of change between ignorance and fateful knowledge whatever was left of her heart got stomped on by a bantha and she lost consciousness once again.   
  
***   
  
The general walked into the control room to see a large group huddled together, shouting in anger and shock. "What happened?" the general barked.   
  
A hundred voices began to answer him loudly. He heard snippets—"Jedi," "distress", and some choice curses—but none that made sense.   
  
"Silence!" he roared. The room fell into a shocked silence and the general pointed to a lieutenant. "You. Tell me what happened."   
  
***   
  
Deep within the Maw there was a large ship named the _Eclipse_. This ship was old and had seen many things. Now it saw a woman, that its sensors got no reading on, oddly enough-bow before a numerously scarred being that the Eclipse had heard called "the warmaster," then say something that angered the scarred one.   
  
Subtly at first, then quickly more obvious, a booming sound was heard that rocked the _Eclipse_. The female human threw back her head and laughed, saying something in a foreign language. Then the _Eclipse_ felt the shaking stop and it relaxed. Then it exploded.   
  
Deep within the Maw there was tiny pieces of a large ship once called the _Eclipse_. The pieces were old and when they were a ship it saw many things. It had seen its beginning and thousands of beings, alien and human alike. It had seen the formation of the New Republic and the arrival of the Yuuzhan Vong. It had seen the confrontation of a female human and a male Yuuzhan Vong and the explosion that was the result.   
  
It had seen its end.

~*~*~

The young woman on Naboo somehow found the strength to lift her head and she blinked blearily in the dimly lighted room. _Med-bay_, her mind offered. "Hello?" she said weakly, her throat sore from her earlier screaming.   
  
"Ah. You are awake." A medical droid slid up to its patient and began checking the sensors nearby then handed her a glass.   
  
"What in all the sith levels am I doing here?" she demanded, after gulping down the drink the droid gave her to soothe her aching throat, and shoving the memory of what had just happened as far from her mind as she could.   
  
"You were found unconscious in a nearby marshland. Several Gungans recovered you and brought you here."   
  
"Where am I?"   
  
"The medical bay."   
  
The woman shook her head impatiently. "No. That's not what I meant. Where is this med-bay?"   
  
"You are at the ground controls, Miss."   
  
"How did the—" she glanced at the medical droid and decided that it wasn't the best thing to ask about the outcome of the battle. "Never mind." She swung her legs out of the bed and pulled on a nearby robe to the droid's obvious distress. It felt so _cold_ without the Force which she had avoided using for fear of feeling more emptiness where she had once believed would always be a fire.   
  
"Miss, I must request that you-"   
  
"I have no physical injuries," she said, cutting the pesky droid off. "It was simply emotional shock."   
  
"But—"   
  
"Argue all you want, I'm still leaving."   
  
"Miss-"   
  
"Later."   
  
***   
  
The lieutenant's eyes grew wide. "The Jedi! They sent a distress holo for you but it was cut off and we haven't heard from the since!"   
  
The general grew pale. "Let me see the holo."   
  
Without any hesitation the same lieutenant dove into the crowd and played with the controls until the life-size image of Master Luke Skywalker appeared. "General, I have no time for pleasantries. The Vong found us. We tried to fight them in space but they slaughtered all the squadrons sent up. They're boarding us now. There must be thousands of skips and a worldship is here as well." Master Skywalker hesitated.   
"General—_fzzt_—request—_fft_—help—_flt—Eclipse—bzzt_̵ 2;tell—_zzf_—the Force—_ff_—always—_bts_—her." And then the holo image disappeared completely.   
  
"Why did you not call for me _immediately_?" the general roared at the silent crowd. "Get to your ships!"   
  
"It's too late," a voice said from behind him and the general spun to see the image that broke his heart and would stay in his mind for the rest of his life.   
  
***   
  
Slowly, deep within the Maw, pieces of the one-time ship named the _Eclipse_ moved into what looked like chaos.

~*~*~

[flashback]   
  
"_Jeedai_ blasphemer" the warmaster grunted.   
  
"Vong idiot," Jaina Solo countered as she bowed stiffly before him, causing the warmaster to grunt in surprise at her show of reverence, then growl in anger.   
  
"_You_ are the heretic, _jeedai_. Not me."   
  
The _jeedai_ Solo gave a smug smirk. "Are you so sure?" She paused and let the words sink in before asking off-handedly, "And why, pray tell, am _I_ a heretic?"   
  
Tsavong Lah ground his teeth. "You mock the gods with your blasphemy!"   
  
She considered him with a glint in her eye. "Are you so sure it is blasphemy? In moments you will be no more, _Tsavong_," she stressed, purposely leaving out his title and domain name as a sign of disrespect. "It shall be so because _I willed it_."   
  
The abomination that the infidels called the _Eclipse_ began to shake and Tsavong Lah's eyes grew wide. The _jeedai_ began to laugh loudly in sheer delight even as the rumbling stopped many moments later.   
  
[/flashback]   
*~*~*   
  
"It's too late," a throaty voice said. When everyone turned, they saw—though they didn't know it then—the last of Luke Skywalker's Jedi.   
  
The general stared hard at the girl. "What do you mean, 'it's too late'? If we hurry we might be able to—"   
  
  
"No." The girl shook her head. "No."   
  
"But—"   
  
"You don't understand, General. I _felt_ them die. They're all gone."   
  
Silence reined as each being tried to grasp what they had just been told. The general was the first to speak. "Are you sure?"   
  
The girl looked at him incredulously. "Am I sure? _Am I sure?!_ General, do you even know how _absurd_ your question is? Of course I'm sure! They're gone! All of them: the Horns, the Skywalkers, the Solos, Kyp Durron, everyone! It was a meeting for all the Jedi and as many of their supporters as possible! Even the Queen of Hapes was there! They are all dead," she finished quietly as if the events were just now catching up with her. "Everyone," she said one last time.   
  
The silent pause was even longer than the first and twice as uncomfortable but no less shocked.   
  
The girl stood there for a long moment, posture defiant in the face of heartbreak, before she spun on her heel and stomped out of the control center.   
  
**** 

Slowly, the pieces of what was once the _Eclipse_ moved into a recognizable shape. A symbol unknown to this galaxy.   
  
*~*~*   
  
[flashback]   
  
Tsavong Lah watched the blasphemer through narrowed eyes. "What was that?" he snapped.   
  
The blasphemer's smirk grew into a malicious smile. "That," she said in the Tongue of the Gods, "was the Will of Me, Yun-Harla. And now, _Warmaster_," she said, twisting the title into an insult, "you will die, for I have Willed it."   
  
The ship exploded and Tsavong Lah's last thought was, _I called Yun-Harla a heretic_, and then he accepted the gods' final gift: death.   
  
[/flashback]   
  
*~*~*   
  
The pieces of the _Eclipse_ would never know what the symbol meant, but if a Yuuzhan Vong ever saw it they would gasp in surprise and hurry away as fast as possible for fear of the gods' wrath. For the symbol clearly marked the explosion-and the Maw, as the Yuuzhan Vong read it-as a result of the _Trickster's_ wrath.   
  
***

~TJF


	3. Dying Embers

The general entered his quarters wearily, the Jedi Knight following him like a wraith. "We had to give your quarters to someone else because we thought you would be gone for a while, so for now you can just stay here," he said quietly.   
  
The young woman nodded numbly even though she knew the real reason she was staying in the general's family quarters was because her hold-father didn't want her to do anything stupid. _Like suicide_, she thought grimly. _Fat chance on that one_. Not that she hadn't thought about it but she was smart enough to recognize it as a stupid move.   
  
However, instead of voicing her knowledge about what he thought, she said politely, "Thank you, General. I'm sure I will be quite fine." The phrase sounded odd on her tongue because she knew that nothing would be "quite fine" ever again.   
  
The general shifted uneasily. _How do you comfort someone who just lost everything?_ he wondered awkwardly. "If you want someone to talk to—"   
  
"I know."   
  
"If you want, I can make us a dinner. I don't know about you but I'm starving."   
  
The idea of food revolted her. "I'm not really hungry."   
  
There was an awkward pause and she found herself wishing desperately that he would just leave her be. When he didn't, she said, "If you don't mind I think I'll just go to sleep right away. I'm pretty tired."   
  
"Of course." The general nodded and she noticed that he was as relieved as she to have a break in the uncomfortable silence. "The 'fresher's around the corner. There's some robes and night clothes in the far cabinet that you can use."   
  
"Thank you." She all but ran from the room. 

  
***   
  
The general forced himself to go through the steps of a normal night. Fortunately, his wife was working late and the children asleep. He wondered how he would explain the disaster that had befallen the New Republic. His daughters had been close to some of the Jedi children. They would be heartbroken. And his wife…   
  
He shook his head and slowly got dressed for bed as his mind drifted to what had been lost. Luke Skywalker, Han and Leia Solo, heroes of the Rebellion and the New Republic—all dead. The Jedi, the guardians of peace in the galaxy, were all gone save a single, heartbroken child that had seen too much in this war.   
  
The girl. She was truly tragedy embodied. The heart and soul of one young woman, barely out of her teens and the only Jedi left in the galaxy, crushed and vaporized. It had to be the most disgusting waste the general had ever heard of.   
  
As he got into bed he could not help but feel guilty. He had experienced much loss during this sithspawned war but the girl out on the couch...She had suffered the unthinkable. So while she tried vainly to keep from crying, while she tried to remain strong, the general had his two amazing daughters and his beautiful wife, all whom he wanted very badly at that moment.   
  
**** 

Deep within the Maw, among the pieces of the _Eclipse_ there was a scatter of materials and mechanical components that were not part of any kind of ship. These pieces were instead once part of a special droid. This droid had two specific missions. The first was, should the Vong ever attack, the droid was to take out as many Vong as absolutely possible. The second was to make the Warmaster and all other Vong believe in "blasphemy."   
  
The droid's name was ERJV-Jaina Solo.   
  
She was a human replica droid.   
  
***   
  
The general, not being able to sleep, slipped out of the room and sat down, watching the young girl sleep. He did not move as his wife slipped into the room, instead, he brought the blanket that covered the girl up more tightly as she shivered. His wife leaned forward and smoothed the hair from the girl's face, then lightly kissed the girl's forehead. His heart nearly broke at the sudden reminder that the girl would never be comforted by her mother ever again.   
  
His wife moved to his side and snuggled into his side.   
  
Together, Wedge and Iella Antilles wept for Jaina Solo.   
  
*End of Part 1*


	4. Shrinks, Mechanics and Other Annoyances

*Part Two – Hidden Tears*   
  
  


(Four Months Later)   
  
_And I wanna believe you,   
When you tell me that it will be okay,   
Ya I try to believe you...   
But I don't._

~"Tomorrow" by Avril Lavigne  
  
  
Jaina had a distinct desire to pop the insufferable man one but she settled for vowing to not speak for the rest of the session   
  
"Miss Solo, answer me." Her "therapist" studied her and she used every single lesson about keeping a good sabacc face that her father had ever taught her to keep from giving the little twit a piece of her mind.   
  
"Miss Solo, I asked you," he continued in his nauseating voice, "why do you keep so many pills? Are you contemplating suicide? Because if you are – "   
  
"They're _sleeping pills_ for Sith's sake!" she bellowed, breaking her oath of silence.   
  
"Yes, yes, of course, but are you taking them in moderation?" he pressed.   
  
Jaina threw her hands up in exasperation. "Look, banana brain, as much as I'd love to stick around and convince you of my mental well-being—which, by the way, is none of your business—I have more important things to do—such as painting my toenails and staring at the ceiling—that need to go before you. So if you'll excuse me?" She didn't wait for a reply but instead charged out of the room and into a wall.   
  
*~*~*   
  
Flashback   
  
Jaina woke up slowly; first her hearing, then her sense of smell coming back to her. For an instant, she knew disorientation as she tried to figure out where she was. She was not sleeping on her queen-size, luxury bed—one of the perks of being a goddess—but on a cramped and lumpy sleep couch.   
  
Then feeling began to come back to her feet—which were slightly chilled—then her arms—which felt like someone had placed a sun on top of her. _Where in all of the nine Corellian underlevels am I?_ she wondered.   
  
As if from a distance she heard soft murmurs of people doing their best to keep from waking her could be heard, with the occasional squeal from Syal and Myri. There was a delicious aroma of freshly-baked food and she felt distant jealousy. They had fresh food and they weren't sharing? _I'm going to have to have a talk with whoever's cooking about that one,_ she thought with a wry pout.   
  
She sighed and stretched out with the Force in attempt to recognize her surroundings. She froze as her memory of the night before came flooding back to her.   
  
Her lip began to tremble but she forced it to steady. _I will not cry. If Mom was able to watch Alderaan be blown up when she was eighteen without breaking up then I can survive this at twenty without crying._ She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to remove any tears that might have begun to form.   
  
"Jaina?" a voice said. "Are you awake?"   
  
Jaina opened her eyes and shifted to see Wedge Antilles crouched by the sleep couch she was currently sprawled out on. "Yes, I'm awake." She sat up and stretched. "What's for breakfast?"   
  
Wedge forced a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Breakfast? It's almost dinner time."   
  
"Oh." She looked down at her hands and gnawed on her lip before looking back up at her hold-father, her face hardening. She could play his pretend-nothing's-wrong-and-we'll-be-more-comfortable game. But then again, hadn't she been the one to initiate it, if only in her mind? She shoved the offending thought aside. "But I'm hungry _now_," she pouted.   
  
"I'll bet you are," Wedge said, relief clear in his voice. "You haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday."   
  
"Actually," she corrected, "I had half a rations bar before—" Jaina's voice and resolve broke as against her will tears began to form and spilled down her cheeks.   
  
Wedge felt a million times more awkward as Jaina began to cry. _How do you comfort someone who has lost those that have always comforted her?_ he wondered. The most practical—and comfortable—course of action would be to get Iella who would certainly be better at comforting the clearly distraught young woman. However, Iella was on the other side of the base informing the New Republic and possibly even the Empire and Chiss, of the fall of the Jedi.   
  
The second, and least savoury to Wedge's mind, was to comfort her himself. The "least savoury" because Wedge not only knew he would screw it up somehow, but because he had no idea how she would react.   
  
The last option was to simply leave her alone but who knew what would happen if she was left alone? Suicide was not an unlikely option for her to choose. People used that option over things as small as failing an academic test. On the other hand, it could be exactly what she needed—a chance to grieve and pull herself together—and he was simply being paranoid.   
  
Before he could decide, though, Jaina ran from the room and the decision was made for him.   
  
_Sithspit._   
  
* * * * * 

Tiran Lee-droy worked on his X-wing silently, the fact that the Jedi had been wiped out bothering him only slightly. It was a blow, of course. After all, the Jedi had always believed themselves to be invincible and the attitude was infectious, in some ways. Still, the Vong and PB had been planning it forever…why anyone would be shocked was beyond him.   
  
"Maybe they're shocked because they didn't _want_ it to happen," a muffled voice stated flatly. "After all, the Jedi were the main barrier between the Vong and the rest of the galaxy."   
  
Tiran looked around in an attempt to find the owner of the voice and finally located a pair of flight-suited clad legs sticking out from another X-wing nearby. "Oh, please," he snorted loudly. "Do you actually believe that? The Jedi were arrogant magicians that sat around, spouting philosophy, in the middle of a war."   
  
"The Jedi were the keepers of peace. They weren't arrogant, they were—"   
  
"They were what? Constantly bickering like children? Fighting each other over philosophies instead of the Vong?"   
  
As he said this, the woman he had been speaking to crawled out and now stood before him, grease smudged across her cheek, hair awry, eyes pained and angry, and hand on hip.   
  
"No. Well, yes, but they also—"   
  
"But they what?"   
  
"Just because they had an enlightened understanding of the Force doesn't mean they weren't mortals." The woman glared at Tiran menacingly. "I mean, sheesh, they did their best to protect the galaxy. It's more than most people would do. And what did they get in return? The Peace Brigade and the hatred of billions of beings. The Vong destroyed their Academy; then the Peace Brigade also led the Vong straight to the Jedi hide-away for a bloodbath."   
  
_This girl's sith-spawned annoying!_ Tiran mentally grumbled. "The only person who believes that kind of bantha fodder anymore are the Jedi, and they're dead. Maybe the New Republic will actually stand a chance at winning this war now."   
  
"A chance?" she echoed incredulously. "Do you honestly believe that?"   
  
He shrugged. "Hey, the parlour tricks were interesting at first but occasionally things need to get more serious."   
  
"The Force is _not_ a parlor trick."   
  
"The 'Force' died with the arrogant, sith-spawned Jedi."   
  
"The Jedi weren't arrogant! They were humble, and enlightened, and honest, and—"   
  
"You can't come around preaching the good news of the Jedi. _They're dead and it's about bloody time._ Just who do you think you are that you can barge in here and tell me what the Jedi were like? Jaina Solo?"   
  
She gave him an annoyed look. "Last time I checked."   
  
Tiran gave her a stern look. "All the Jedi are dead. I heard the announcement. I was there when General Antilles—"   
  
"The Antilles have been 'protecting' me. The Vong were out for my head but now that they think I'm dead…"   
  
"Are you saying the Jedi aren't all gone? How many more of you are being 'protected'?" he asked, surprised and angry. _Can't those sith-spawned Jedi just _stay_ dead?_   
  
Jaina closed her eyes for a moment in pain. _I do not want to talk about this. Not to Wedge, Iella, any of my friends—not that I have any left but if any of them came back from the dead and if they did I'd be too speechless with joy to say anything, let alone talk about the hell I've been through—and definitely not a stranger._   
  
But as it was, she had run from the Antilles' quarters to get away from concerned and well-meaning hold-parents straight into a nosy, just-wants-to-get-a-scoop-on-the-most-recent-gossip mechanic.   
  
"No," she said sharply, wondering who died and made this kid an intelligence operative. "They're all dead. I'm the only one left."   
  
Clearly suspicious, the man stared at her for a long moment, sizing her up. Finally he asked, "How can you be sure? Maybe some of them got away and—"   
  
Jaina fought back another surge of tears. _From being a kitten's ball of synthetic thread to being the prey of a Tattooine krayt dragon,_ she thought despairingly.   
  
"Because," she answered as coldly as she could, "I felt them disappear from the Force."   
  
"Oh." As an afterthought he said, "Sorry."   
  
_Does he means he's sorry he asked or he's sorry about my loss?_ She gave him a measuring look before realizing it was a nonsense phrase that he meant to be polite. "Yeah," she spat. "Me too."   
  
He gave her a teacher-like look and said, "No need to be snippy—I didn't do anything."   
  
"Oh no?"   
  
"Why in the galaxy do you think you deserve to be snippy?" he demanded, finally giving up on his silent plea to any gods in the system that she would just get lost. What was wrong with her anyway?   
  
"Oh gee," she snapped, her temper rising. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I just lost _everything and everyone."_   
  
"Oh, of course," he retorted irritably and just as sarcastically. "Maybe I should call a galaxy-wide vacation so that you can get over yourself. Everyone's lost someone."   
  
Jaina could only stare at him, aghast. _Is he actually saying my grieving is_ selfish? she wondered dumbly. _I lost my brother—for the second time in a year—my mother, Dad, all of my friends and pretty much anyone else that has ever come into my life and I get impatient at a nosy, insensitive jerk saying I need to **get over myself?!**_   
  
"Where do you get off?" she demanded angrily when she recovered from her shock. "How _dare_ you start nosing around in my business, mocking my pain and the Jedi?"   
  
He glared at her. "Look, Solo, I don't _care_ about your 'pain.' I don't need to hear about how awful your life has been. Just because your princess-life has been altered doesn't mean—"   
  
Jaina punched him as hard as she could and was slightly pleased to see his head whip around. Her pleasure grew as he fell to the floor. _Not caring how Sith enjoying his pain is!_ she thought savagely.   
  
"You're a sick jerk, you know that?" she hissed. "Pray that you never see me again because from now on I'll have my lightsaber and my blaster with me." She spun on her heel and stalked out of the ship bay.   
  
Tiran rubbed his jaw as he watched her go, not bothering to pull himself off the hard durasteel floor. _Well,_ he thought wryly, _they weren't lying when they said the Jedi went through hard physical training. I can feel pieces of my jaw in my throat. If that was her punch when she's annoyed, what happens when she's mad…?_ He chuckled once, then winced in pain.   
  
End of flashback

~*~*~

Jaina glared up at the offending human wall that had interrupted her regal exit from the therapist's office. "Watch where you're going," she snapped.   
  
"So sorry, Princess," the man retorted.   
  
Jaina snarled as she recognized the voice and face of Tiran Lee-droy, the mechanic who had so highly ticked her off that day four months ago. "What are _you_ doing here?"   
  
"Well, let's just say I'm not here for a mental check-up like some people," he threw back.   
  
Jaina's temper reached its peak and it took all her Jedi training to keep Sith lightning from flowing through her fingertips. "Fine," she snapped. "Whatever. Just get out of my way and shut your trap." Seeing him open his mouth for another smart-mouth comment she thumped his chest sharply. "Not a _word_, Lee-droy." She shoved her way past him in the small corridor, stomping loudly in an effort to regain her godly exit, leaving an irritated Tiran behind her.   
  
***   
  
Wedge looked up at the sound of someone stomping through the quarters that the Antilles and Jaina shared. He glanced at his chrono and whistled admiringly. _A whole twenty-seven minutes. It has to be a record._ However, if Jaina had actually stayed that long with the therapist he doubted it had been to talk about her emotional issues. _May as well comm Dr. Sunyo before he calls me,_ he thought glumly. _I wonder if she made him cry again?_   
  
As had become habit since Wedge put his foot down and made Jaina go to see Dr. Sunyo for therapy, Jaina stormed into the living room and threw herself into a repulsor-comfort chair, glaring wrathfully at everything and anything. Wedge smirked and took a sip of his caf. He swallowed slowly, and then said wryly, "I take it your…'therapy'…did not go well?"   
  
Jaina's expression turned from one of wrath to one of heated exasperation. "I don't know why you make me go to that idiot, Wedge. He hates me and I hate him. We spend three-fourths of our time just trying to find a weakness in the other that we can exploit. It's not therapy, it's academic school lunch hour with bullies."   
  
"Only three-fourths? I'll have to give him a raise," he said mildly.   
  
Jaina's eyes gleamed. "Well, the other fourth is the actual exploitation, threats and insults."   
  
"Have you ever thought of not antagonizing and provoking him, Jaina?"   
  
"What's the fun in that?" she asked flippantly. "If I didn't provoke him, he wouldn't antagonize me. And if he didn't antagonize me I wouldn't be able to drive you crazy with my complaining."   
  
"Ah," Wedge said as if he had just had a revelation, "Of course, the old 'drive the general to the mental institution so that you can get his X-wing ploy."   
  
"Exactly!" she exclaimed brightly, smacking her knee for emphasis. She gave him a roguish grin that did not reach her eyes. "How'd you know?"   
  
For a moment Wedge saw so much of Han in Jaina that his heart stopped breathing. He pulled up his mental shields too late. Jaina, catching the direction his mind had gone in, introverted, her eyes and expression darkening.   
  
The two lapsed into a tension-heavy silence, both lost in their own thoughts, their own memories of the Skywalker/Solo family. _What is it with the descendents of Darth—Anakin Skywalker?_ Wedge wondered. Anakin Skywalker had been the end of the Old Republic Jedi. Anakin's daughter, Leia, was first a leader of the Rebellion, then Chief-of-State and the ambassador of the New Republic.   
  
Anakin's son, Luke, was the redemption of Darth Vader, hero of the Rebellion and the New Republic a thousand times over, and leader of the Jedi Order. A job, he realized suddenly, that would fall to Luke's niece.   
  
How ironic. Jaina's grandfather had been the end of the Jedi. Her uncle restarted the same Order, and then died and left the job to the only surviving Jedi—Jaina Solo, his niece, whom many said was like Anakin Skywalker before he turned.   
  
"Jaina?"   
  
The Jedi Knight looked up, startled out of her dark thoughts and erecting her mental shields in reflex before remembering once again that she would never have to worry about someone reading her mind again. Four months, she thought, should be long enough for the "Sword of the Jedi" to get over the loss of everyone she held dear. _But it just hurts so much…_ She shook it off._ Master Skywalker told me I would walk a lonely path. I just didn't know how lonely. I..._   
  
Again she shook her thoughts off. "Yes?" she said warily.   
  
"Have you thought of what you're going to do now?" Wedge asked. "I mean, about the Jedi Order?"   
  
Jaina felt as if she'd been sucker-punched. Was Wedge trying to cause her more pain? "In case you didn't notice, General Antilles," she said as coldly and emotionlessly as she could. "There is a war going on with any Force-sensitive—trained or otherwise—in the middle. To even think of training someone else as a Jedi would be the synonym of plotting murder."   
  
"But the Vong think the Jedi are dead," the General argued. "And besides, the war's almost over."   
  
"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Even if the Vong are gone, there will still be billions of beings that hate the Jedi. I don't believe for a second that the Jedi—if I trained any—would be safe from persecution, even death."   
  
"But—"   
  
"Hello? I don't believe we've met. Silly me, I thought you were Wedge Antilles, not some greedy politician that believes the Jedi are an ends to a means."   
  
"I never said they were," Wedge said cautiously. "I just think it would help you get over your…traumatic experiences."   
  
"You expect me to get over my 'traumatic experience" just by training someone to be a Jedi?" she repeated incredulously. "For your information, I will never just 'get over it'! Losing everyone isn't like having a bad hair day, Wedge!"   
  
"I know it's not, but it's been four months! You have to move on with your life!"   
  
Jaina's hand came up and slapped him hard across the face before she realized what she was doing. For several long moments, the two stared at each other in shock, the silence deafening.   
  
Jaina was the first to speak, her hand slightly covering her mouth. "I—I'm sorry—" her eyes wide with horror, she turned and fled.   
  
***   
  
Jaina found herself on the roof, watching the sunset as she often did when she was upset. Usually the vibrant then later soft, colors that displayed beautiful order and chaos at the same time soothed her. They told her that things might be in turmoil but eventually dawn would come, as it always did, bringing a fresh start.   
  
This time, though, she waited and waited, and yet saw no sunrise, not in the sky or her future. In a galaxy that was torn by an ending—or was it just beginning?—war and with Force-sensitives hated by many, she was alone.   
  
And still she did not cry.

~TJF


	5. Old Wounds, Old Friends, Old Flames

Two Days later   
  
Jaina woke, sore, tired and damp. Deciding that she hated drizzling rain that got your clothes wet without actually soaking – and thus being more bearable in an odd way – she sat up slowly. Her visits to the top of the military base to watch the sunrise were becoming a habit – _one I'll have to break_, she decided, glancing around. She released a pent-up breath upon realising that she had fallen asleep on the rooftop – again.   
  
Brushing her bangs away from her face, she looked to her chrono and then to the sky. The sun should be coming up any minute now…   
  
But it didn't. The muggy rain and grey sky blocked it from her view. In her anger, she pounded her fists on the cement ledge in front of her as the rain began to come down in steady, icy sheets. When her anger passed her head dropped into her hands, her shoulders slumped.   
  


  
**_Ninety miles outside Chicago   
I can't stop driving I don't know why   
So many questions, I need an answer   
Two years later, you're still on my mind_**_   
  
_

_  
Why can't I get over this? It's just a stupid sunrise._ An image flashed in my mind of a dark-haired man. _Kyp…stars, Kyp, I wish you were here…I'd even let you be arrogant without making you listen to my griping and provoking if you'd just come back. And Jacen – I'd even listen to one of your stupid jokes, the ones you used to tell all the time when we were kids. Please, just don't leave me here alone.   
  
Dad? Aunt Mara? Stars, even Mother…I need someone…please…Uncle Luke, you had Ben Kenobi to help you when no one else could, when everyone else was dead or gone, why can't I have someone like that?   
  
_

_  
_**_Whatever happened to Amelia Earhart   
Who holds the stars up in the sky_**_   
  
_

_  
Anakin…you were too young to die, stangit! Why did you go? Why did I fail you? You and Tahiri…you deserved the life together you wanted and don't even think of telling me that you didn't! I'm your big sister for Force's sake…at least, I was.   
  
Why couldn't it have been me, Anakin? You had Tahiri and your life. You had your other half and I – stangitall! Well, I think it's pretty obvious that I don't have **mine**.   
  
  
_

**_Cuz true love is just once in a lifetime   
Did the captain of the Titanic cry?_**_   
  
_

_  
You and Jacen, you were the ones that could change things. I'm just a pilot, not even the best one out there! I have the smallest amount of Force potential! So what if I'm the stupid "Trickster goddess"? When the war ends and they don't need me as part of psychological warfare, and the need for pilots go down, what happens to me?   
  
Tenel Ka…you were the queen of Hapes, why were you on the **Eclipse**? I should have been there but you…you're gone now and Hapes has one of your cousins on the throne. Your father's a mess after losing your mother **and** you. He got married again but he's like some wraith. Even Ta'a Chume looked shell-shocked.   
  
  
_

**_Someday we'll know   
If love can move a mountain   
Someday we'll know   
Why the sky is blue_**_   
  
_

_  
Raynar…you never were the same after Lusa died. The two of you always tried to pretend you were just friends. That was so stupid. You let love and happiness slip right through your fingers.   
  
_

_  
_**_Does anybody know the way to Atlantits?   
What the wind says when she comes_**_   
  
_

_  
And Tahiri…I could have helped you, somehow. I lived through what you did. Or did I? Did I really understand? Could I? Or did I just think I did?   
  
Sometimes I wondered if you and Anakin were one soul, I really did. And I envied you so much, you'll never know…It broke my heart to see you deteriorate after Anakin's death. It ripped part of me to shreds because I recognised what you were going through._ Her shoulders began to shake as she remembered at a memory she had buried years ago.   
  
  


**_I'm speeding by the place that I met you   
For the ninety-seventh time, tonight   
Someday we'll know   
If love can move a mountain_**   
  


  
A man walked up the stairs quietly but Jaina didn't notice him. Seeing the woman on the ledge, he stopped. He hadn't expected to find anyone here. It had always been _his_ spot. Why was a stranger intruding now? What was she doing here?   
  
He shoved a hand through his shaggy brown hair and squinted, trying to figure out who the woman was. Her hair was brown and she was small, that much he could see. That, and that she was ready to go through an emotional breakdown. His awkwardness increased.   
  
  


**_Someday we'll know   
Why the sky is blue   
Someday we'll know   
Why I wasn't meant for you_**   
  


  
Jaina bit her lip and clenched her hands in fists. _Come on, Solo, buck up. Straighten your spine. Who cares why you got left behind? Who cares if it would have been better if your uncle, or Jacen, survived? They didn't. You did. No one gives a poodoo if you don't know why. No one cares.   
  
No one.   
  
  
_

**_Someday we'll know   
Why Samson loved Delilah   
One day I'll go   
Dancing on the moon   
Someday you'll know that I was the one for you_**   
  
  


His eyes narrowed. Something was familiar about the woman…was she a refugee from Lin-Ta? He thought it over. He didn't recall seeing anyone he recognised outside of the military at the base; did she only recently arrive? Where else could he have recognised her from?   
  
  


**_I want to take you to the end of the rainbow   
Watch the stars crash in the sea_**   
  


  
"Excuse me?" The woman froze when Tiran spoke. "Are you alright?"   
  
  


**_If I could ask God just one question   
Why aren't you here with me, tonight?_**   
  


  
She stiffened visibly and turned to see him slowly. Recognizing him, her composure slipped enough to show her surprise. Tiran felt his mental barriers go up and he cursed inwardly. _Of course it's not someone from Lin-Ta! Don't be stupid._   
Princess Solo's – as Tiran had begun to think of her in his mind – chin went up defiantly. "Perfect. Never better. But if things were wrong, no doubt your charming personality would have made everything wonderful again."   
  
  


**_Someday we'll know   
If love can move a mountain_**   
  
  


He gritted his teeth. _What did I do to deserve this?_ "That's what I thought. Excuse me." Nearly touching his head to the ground in a deep, mocking bow, he turned and left.   
  
  


**_Someday we'll know   
Why the sky is blue   
Someday we'll know why I wasn't meant for you_**   
  


  
Jaina growled in frustration. _What a horrible man!_ She groused about Tiran Lee-droy for a few moments before letting her anger go. He had distracted her from her thoughts so she could forgive him.   
  
  


**_Someday we'll know   
Why Samson loved Delilah_**   
  
  


She glanced at her chrono, her confusion and dismal thoughts gone for the moment. A full emotional breakdown would have to wait. Wedge wasn't going to like her being late for an Insiders' meeting.   
  
Maybe if she lied and said that she'd shed a tear he'd let it pass.   
  
  


**_One day I'll go   
Dancing on the moon_**   
  
  


Probably not.   
  
  


**_Someday you'll know that I was the one for you   
  
…If I could ask God just one question   
Why aren't you here with me, tonight?_**__

~*~*~

_To the side of the walking brunette stood a man. But appearances are deceiving for the man was not standing, nor was he truly a man.   
  
At least, not anymore.   
  
Once, he had been alive, but he had died and now he was not who he had been, as were those who surrounded – but did not surround – him. They were heart-wrenching sadness and joy. They were the depths of despair and hope. They were hatred, and they were love. They were loneliness, and they were companionship. They were everything, and they were nothing; wisdom and folly.   
  
But, most importantly, they were Life, and they were One.   
  
Before they died they had been eight separate beings, but that became to mean little, as all things do to all beings that are suddenly given a wondrous new perspective.   
  
Quickly, they had lost their memories of their old lives – they were so far away, so troublesome, so insignificant…so why bother? Anything they wanted to remember was dying – had died – in one hour. The hour the living called the "Eclipse Massacre".   
  
They were eight– and One – of the Jedi – what did that mean to them now? – that had been killed so long ago. It seemed like lifetimes since they were "alive," as the "living" called that state of being. Upon dying the eight – the One – had realized that they had been 'Dying' when they thought they were 'Living' and upon dying, they had 'Lived.'   
  
But there was one that was still 'Dying' and they mourned her. Calling themselves "the One" was all well and fine, but false when they thought of whom they had left behind. She was the only thing they still clung to from their long lifetime of death. Until she joined them, they could never be what they could be.   
  
And so they would watch, from a distance, until she would be with them in Life; until they would_ truly _be One…   
  
***   
  
"She refuses to heal," the first Said – an even more glorious, renewing experience than just 'saying', as they had when they were 'Dying.'   
  
"She finds 'Death' very difficult," the second Said, agreeing with the first. "She is enlightened – she knows, somehow, that to 'Live', she must die."   
  
" 'Life' would not be the same for her," the third disagreed, gaining the others' attention. In life he had been the girl's brother – her twin. Memories of her were vague…but there, if he searched deeply. Of all of them, the third knew the girl better. "She would be half a person – you know this."   
  
"She would have us," the first Said.   
  
"It's not the same," the fourth realized.   
  
The fifth nodded once. "This is a fact."   
  
The eight exchanged glances. Even 'Life' could not have prepared them for that moment of Truth.   
  
The sixth cocked their head. It was a small habit that had passed from life into 'Life' – a sign of that they were thinking. "There is one that could still help her," the sixth Said softly, almost hesitantly.   
  
The third's head shot up quickly to regard the sixth but it was the eighth that replied to the sixth. "He is not dead perhaps, but he is most certainly not alive."   
  
"But he is not here," the seventh argued as they considered it. "When it came to_ her, _he gained so much strength…"   
  
"That changes nothing," the fifth Said pragmatically. "He is unable to help her."   
  
Finally the third Spoke again. "You forget – we have all watched her grieve for him even from here. It is true that he is perhaps the only one that could save her, but how much pain would she have to go through in the process?"   
  
The beings exchanged looks once more, their eyes heavy and sad. No matter what happened, one thing was certain in their minds: Jaina Solo's mettle was going to be severely tested…whether_ he _saved her or not…_   
  
~*~*~   
  
[flashback]   
  
Dinner was quiet in the Antilles' quarters. Jaina had marched into the eating room, muttering something about a "grubby, ignorant mechanic" and was now smouldering silently as she ate. Wedge couldn't decide whether he preferred her wraith-like behaviour or her anger.   
  
Iella was hurriedly reading over Intelligence reports before a meeting and Myri and Syal were both off planet in a "safe and highly confidential" place. Wedge, still awkward with Jaina, was eating his food as if he was going to have a surgery that would put his stomach out of commission for a month.   
  
When he finished, he forced a smile and said, "Dinner was delicious, Iella."   
  
His wife smiled sweetly. "That's because every food-processor button was pushed in love, dear."   
  
Jaina looked up, her forehead creased. Neither adult noticed her.   
  
"That would explain the heavenly taste," Wedge agreed, his smile becoming more real. "That, and all the talent that went into it."   
  
Jaina stood suddenly, her chair scraping the floor and ruining the mood that had sprung up between husband and wife. "I'm done. Thank you for dinner, Iella." Putting her plate by the sink, she began to walk away.   
  
Iella's eyes followed the Jedi Knight. "Where are you going?"   
  
Jaina stopped and turned back to her hold parents to say shortly, "Out." Then, reconsidering the harshness of her reply, she softened her tone and expanded her answer. "I'm going for a walk. My comm-link's on if you need to contact me." Quietly, almost to herself, she added. "I need to think." She paused for a moment as if testing what she had said before nodding once, firmly and walking out the door.   
  
She wandered around the base before finding herself at her own quarters. A green light blinked over the door, signalling that it was once again assigned to the original occupant – Jaina. So, they were free again. She tried to imagine that the person who had been occupying her rooms was still alive, even though they were more likely dead from a Vong attack.   
  
Keying the lock, she entered the quarters then stopped. Boxes were scattered around the main room, obviously packed with belongs. Her in-room comm blinked, signalling that a recorded message waiting to be retrieved. Upon pressing the button, Wedge's voice came over the speakers.   
  
"Jaina, I wasn't sure who most of this stuff should go to. Many of the Jedi had no immediate relatives still living. As such, I am leaving them for you to sort out."   
  
The breath she had been taking hitched in her throat as she turned back to the boxes, horrified. _Emperor's black bones, Wedge, you could have at least_ warned _me!_ Numbly, she closed the door and stared at the boxes for a moment before growing angry. _Stangitall, I can't just dig through people's stuff! I don't even know all of them!   
  
But you feel the loss of each of them – perhaps more than anyone in the galaxy._ The honesty the little voice in her mind showed was not welcome to Jaina's mind. It wasn't something she particularly wanted to face at the moment. Later, she would force herself to face some brutal realities as punishment but for now it was better for her to stay frozen.   
  
She hesitated more before kneeling by the first box. _I'm the Sithspawned daughter of Leia and Han Solo. I trained – officially – under the former Emperor's Hand and – unofficially – one of – if not_ the _– most powerful Jedi Masters in the galaxy. I can do this._   
  
Despite her resolve, when she saw 'K. DURRON' scribbled onto the box, she had to take a few deep breaths. Slowly, she pulled the top of the box off. On top were gadgets – an extra comlink and chrono, a few tools – and she placed each on the floor, forcing herself to keep from lingering. Beneath the gadgets was his clothing: an extra set of Jedi robes and tunics training wear, flightsuits, civilian clothes and the cape he had gotten years ago from Han.   
  
Unable to stop herself, she buried her face in the cape, biting her lip as the memory of the last time she'd seen her "partner" washed over her.   
  
_She watched as he threw his bag into the cockpit. "I still think you should come right away," Kyp said peevishly and her lips tightened in annoyance._ Why couldn't he just _drop it?   
  
Sighing, she shook her head. The odds of Kyp leaving this matter alone were almost as murderous as the odds of her surviving this Sithspawned war.   
  
"I can't just leave," she argued. "In case you hadn't noticed the Vong are expected to attack any day now."   
  
"The meeting on the_ Eclipse _is about the protection of the Jedi – something few are willing to provide these days." When she didn't reply he continued. "The Jedi have been at the front lines since the beginning of the war; let the New Republic non-Jedi take care of themselves for a while; they seem plenty certain enough they can survive without us."   
  
Her jaw set. "I'm needed here. I'll be at the _Eclipse_ in time. It's just a few days."   
  
"It's not 'just a few days' and you know it. You don't _want_ to go."   
  
She snorted. "In the past five years I've found what I want is of little concern to the Force."   
  
"So why won't you come with me, now? You could use the break – you're wearing yourself to the ground."   
  
She almost smiled then, as she stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. "You worry about me too much, Durron. I'm a big girl now; I can take care of myself."   
  
He rolled his eyes heavenward. "Solo, you're going to get yourself killed some day."   
  
She snorted. "Look who's talking." She sobered. "Kyp?"   
  
"Yes, Goddess?"   
  
She hesitated before speaking. "Be careful. I have a bad feeling about this whole thing."   
  
He grimaced. "Me too. Just the thought of the food on the_ Eclipse _makes my stomach toss."   
  
Her expression tightened. "Stangit Durron, I'm being serious."   
  
His eyes widened in innocence. "So am I! Mara's on a domestic kick – what if she invites me to dinner? You know how much she hates me!"   
  
She groaned and rolled her eyes. "Her cooking isn't that bad."   
  
"So said Dareth," he replied seriously, naming a Jedi Knight that was currently in the Eclipse's med-bay in critical condition. Kyp received a shove for his wit. He didn't so much as rock on his feet. "Hey, don't kill the messenger" he protested, his hands up in the surrender position, a smirk on his face.   
  
_Is he ever serious? _Jaina wondered.   
  
_Of course I am, _a laughing voice said in her mind suddenly, _but only when I think it will annoy you more than my superior wit._   
  
"Stay out of my head, Durron!"   
  
His expression was bewildered but she could see a twinkle in his eye. "Me? Go into a Goddess' mind?"   
  
"Whatever. Have a nice trip."   
  
She turned on her heel but he caught her arm, his teasing air disappearing like an ice cube in the middle of a Tatooine day. "You're really that worried?"   
  
There was surprise in his voice, something she only caught because of how well she knew him. When he pulled her deeper into the shadow of his X-wing for privacy she didn't resist.   
  
"Just be careful, Kyp."   
  
He blinked before giving a smug smirk. "You know Goddess, if I didn't know better I'd say you _cared._"   
  
Her expression remained blasé. "Of course I care. You're a superior pilot, a powerful Jedi Master and a born leader. The Jedi are too small a number as it is. The New Republic needs you!"   
  
"The New Republic" he repeated. "What about _you_?"   
  
"Me? I don't know what you're talking about."   
  
"I think you do. Are you so sure it's not _you_ who needs me?"   
  
She thought she felt a blush creep up her face and hoped that he wouldn't see it in the dim shadow. "We're partners; of course I need you around." Oh, how it had cost her to admit that! This conversation had to end – and quickly.   
  
He drew her close and she wondered if it was on impulse or if he had somehow managed to plan this whole thing. "And what, Goddess," he murmured, sending shivers up her spine, "is being your 'partner' supposed to mean?"   
  
She half-heartedly started to step away but his arms slipped around her in an embrace, keeping her where she was even as his head lowered an inch. "Durron…" There was a warning in her tone but he ignored it._ Doesn't he always?_ she rebuked herself dryly.   
  
"Don't tell me you'll hurt me if I don't let you go, Goddess," he murmured.   
  
She thumped her hand hard against his chest. "Stop calling me that."   
  
"What did I say about you hurting me if you need me?"   
  
"I never said I needed you in one piece," she retorted but her voice was softer than she had meant it to be.   
  
His head dropped several more inches and she found herself getting desperate with her back against a wall. _Come on Solo, protest! Push him back! Stangit, do you want to have your heart ripped out_ again?! _Hurry up! Why are you waiting? Why…_ She began to push against his chest, planning to put all her strength into it, but she was too late and if he knew of her – reluctant – protest, he ignored it. Instead his mouth found hers, so soft at first, then hard, and she lost herself somewhere in his arms.   
  
It took several long moments for Jaina to realize what she was doing and when she did she tore herself away from Kyp, her eyes wide. _Stars…what am I_ doing_?!_   
  
She could feel his confusion but couldn't bear to meet his eyes and she grabbed his helmet, which had been lying on a box nearby. She shoved it into his arms, careful not to touch him. "You should get going," she whispered, her voice breaking.   
  
He frowned and she could see the hurt she had caused him, buried in his eyes and she wanted to die. _Oh, Kyp, if only things were different…_ But they weren't and she couldn't allow herself to pretend they were.   
  
He looked from the helmet to her, his pain and confusion flooding her senses. "Jaina…?"   
  
She wished she could have left it there. Anything had to be better than letting him know the truth but didn't he deserve to know? "I'm sorry Kyp, I just…I can't." Her eyes pleaded with him to understand for a moment before she turned and fled…_   
  
Jaina nearly wept then – it was Kyp's memory that seemed to pull the deepest of her heartstrings. Others she could grieve for but Kyp…she had finally trusted him, let him in, loved him.   
  
_I loved him?   
  
Yes. I loved Kyp Durron._   
  
The realization was a slap to the face. To think that she had held the chance to put the past behind her, the chance to be loved with a love she had thought she would never again know, and she had fled from it.   
  
But she was tired…so tired…every emotion had been wrung from her, every tear, except one and she squeezed it for all its worth.   
  
Picking up a nearby box – the box that held the belongings of someone she did not know – she hurled it through the air. The glass of the window shattered and she revelled in the sound. The anger the flooded her senses felt so wonderful. Anything was better than the silent numbness she had endured for so long. So long…   
  
_What kind of partner just LEAVES, Durron?! You promised you'd always be there for me – _always_! You said you wouldn't hurt me! You _promised_! I thought I could trust you…even if only just you…you were the first one I let in…   
  
And I lost everything.   
  
I have no future. _  
  
The bleak thought rose up within her before she could stifle it but calmed her sufficiently for the moment. How in the galaxy was she supposed to plan for a future now?   
  
Another memory rose up within her, this time it was of a conversation she had with her mother a lifetime ago.   
  
_"It's all right to be afraid. You're surrounded by fearsome things. Being afraid will keep you alive."   
  
Jaina shook her head. "That's not it. I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of surviving…and getting to the end of the war and discovering that I'm all alone. That everyone I knew and cared for is gone."   
  
"Jaina, that won't happen…   
  
"At times like that, you plan for your future by bringing people into your life. You know they can't all survive what you're facing. But those who do, they're part of your life forever. No matter what, when you fall, they'll catch you; when you're hungry, they'll feed you; when you're hurting, they'll heal you. And you'll do the same for them. And that's your future. I've had whole _worlds_ taken from me…but not my future."_   
  
At the time she had found comfort in those words – surely, she had thought, the Force would not take everyone from her – but now they were empty.   
  
_Guess what, Mom, I _was_ left all alone. You said I wouldn't but you were _wrong_. I have no one to turn to now. Do you have a nice sitcom-mom solution for _that_ one? Do you?_   
  
"Of course you don't," she whispered aloud. "You never expected this to happen. None of us did – not really." The last phrase she spoke, hoping to hammer some jolt of reality into her head.   
  
She sat there for a long moment, bleak despair washing over her. When at last she shook herself out of it, she stood and walked to her bed, shoving a box off and lying down. Wrapping herself in Kyp's cape she curled up on the bed and buried her head in her pillow.   
  
_I am half of a person, all alone and surrounded by enemies.   
  
Why do these things always happen to_ me_?_   
  
She sighed.   
  
[/flashback]   
  
* * * * * 

~TJF


	6. Help Comes In the Strangest Forms

Jaina Solo was late – as she often was – but the general consensus of the day seemed to be that she be left alone. Garik Klamath decided that was probably best for now. It might make her feel more secure and easier to deal with should a certain Twi'lek push too far, too fast.   
  
Alright, so it wasn't kriffing likely but a guy could hope, right?   
  
If Jaina noticed that she should have been reprimanded, she didn't show it. Instead, she listened only vaguely to the others speak, speaking rarely and only when spoken to. The only time she truly seemed to pay attention was when General Antilles brought up psychological warfare.   
  
Garik had the sneaking suspicion that her silence was as deadly as a ticking bomb.   
  
When there was a lull in the conversation and he saw Oosan Saraf sneak one too many peeks at the Jedi Knight who looked ready to fall asleep. _Not good._ He groaned inwardly and shot the Twi'lek a concealed but nasty look. If he caught it, Oosan ignored it.   
  
"As we all know," the former aide began, "since the Eclipse Massacre, the Free Alliance has fought bravely. However, while many were – and still are – blind to this, it is clear that we cannot win this war without the Jedi. The Vong know this and eventually the Free Alliance will as well."   
  
Garik sighed and leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. _Might as well settle in for the long haul._ Councilor Cal Omas' former aide was nothing if not long-winded.   
  
Indeed, the Twi'lek's annoying, greasy voice continued to go on. "The 'Vong, since the beginning of the war, have placed the Jedi premium in their minds, vowing to destroy them. Four months ago, it seemed as if they succeeded. As we all know, they didn't; but more importantly _they believe they succeeded_ – which gives us an advantage."   
  
Oosan cast a pleading look toward Jaina. "Miss Solo – "   
  
"This is an Insiders' conference, _Oosan_," Jaina spat, her eyes narrowing, "not a meeting of the Senate. There are no titles here; no politics. Don't tell me you're planning on changing that now, after all your hard work?"   
  
The former aide ignored Jaina's sharp reference and Garik shook his head. Oosan was really backing himself into a corner now. The politically-minded Twi'lek had been informed of the Insiders after months of discussion about his trustworthiness. If he kept pushing politics into meetings like this…well, they already had the Senate, now didn't they? _You just_ had _to pick a fight, didn't you, Oosan?_ Garik thought derisively. _This isn't going to help your fight, you fool._   
  
"Miss Solo," Oosan continued, ignoring Jaina and clearly not picking up on Garik's disgust or mental lecture. _Well, well, well…yet another flaw in his design; when will the shocking revelations stop?_ "You are a capable Jedi Knight, correct?"   
  
Jaina shifted slightly and Garik noticed for the first time that her Goddess uniform was soaking – again. _What does the girl do – sleep in the forest during rain storms?_ "A Jedi Knight?" she repeated. "Yes; for nearly two years now. Whether I am capable or not, you'll have to decide for yourself."   
  
_Good job, Solo. Very nice deflexion. The part of your DNA that your mother passed on is showing.   
  
/Would you stop running a running mental commentary on this whole Sithspawn – political – debate?!_/ Garik nearly fell out of his chair in his shock upon hearing the voice in his head.   
  
_Stupid Jedi, always shoving their noses into other people's minds.   
  
/Only when you silly non-Jedi insist on broadcasting at "Bantha mating call" volume. Now shut up; I have to deal with a certain grease-ball./   
  
/Try not to make any stupid vows._/   
  
He got the distinct mental image of the former Chief of State's daughter sticking her tongue out of him and he covered his chuckle with a cough. Kriffing Sith, he hadn't had this much fun since…well, since when? Before the war, definitely. Maybe the last time he and Jaina had been dragged to the same political dinner?   
  
He had to fight to keep the grin off his face. Ah…yes. A specific political dinner did come to mind at that. One that included, boring speeches, dejarik under the band stage, a food fight and teasing started at the sight of a pink "girly" dress…   
  
_But that was a long time ago. Before…before the "tragedy," as my mother put it. Before – _  
  
"But you are able to train apprentices?" Oosa said suddenly, breaking into Garik's memories.   
  
Jaina's annoyance was clear. "No one trains more than one inexperienced apprentice at a time."   
  
"I seem to recall your uncle, Master Skywalker, doing just that."   
  
"I'm not my uncle."   
  
"How long is an apprentice trained for?" Oosa asked, trying a different approach.   
  
"It depends on the being," she replied carefully, "and, of course, on the will of the Force."   
  
"In general, how long?"   
  
"The Old Republic Jedi trained from not long after their birth to between the age of twenty and thirty. According to the – program – that Master Skywalker set up, Jedi were trained at the Jedi Academy until they knew the basics – it usually took about two to three years – and then paired with a master."   
  
"Do you plan on taking an apprentice soon?"   
  
Garik sighed. _Oosan just_ had _to ask, didn't he? He _had _to press._   
  
Jaina's temper mounted and Garik vaguely tightened his grip on the table. It wouldn't be much if she started a vortex in the Force, but he'd be one of the last to go flying around, at least. There wasn't much else he could do.   
  
"What is this, a galaxy court of law?" she demanded harshly. "Whether I take an apprentice or not is my own business. It's not your place to ask that kind of thing!"   
  
Foolishly, Oosan spoke again. _Probably trying to soothe her. The idiot._ "The Free Alliance – "   
  
"Did not and does not care for Jedi." Jaina stood, a storm in her eyes. One of Garik's feet instinctively hooked under the cross under-bar of his chair for anchorage. "After the New Republic was stable and Master Skywalker requested that he be able to start a Jedi Academy, the Senate was reluctant, but they _let_ him start it. They said they didn't want Dark Jedi or, worse yet, Sith, becoming a problem again. But when the 'Vong came and the Jedi didn't become the basic equivalent of Sith and massacre the invaders within three seconds, the Jedi became the _reason_ behind the war."   
  
"Would you like a galactic apology?" a Bothan demanded sarcastically.   
  
"Of course not! All I'm saying is that Jedi business is just that – _Jedi business_!"   
  
Garik nearly chuckled. _Senator Solo, your mother is showing through.   
  
/What did I tell you about your running commentary?!/_   
  
"All I will say," she continued, as if her mental exchange with Garik had not even occurred, "is that should I take an apprentice, no doubt you will find out but _not from me_.   
  
"Care to explain that, Colonel Solo?" the Ishi Tib next to Oosan asked.   
  
Jaina's eyes flashed. "I – and the Jedi – serve the Free Alliance and I refuse to pretend otherwise! I am not my mother and as such do not have any skills in politics; nor do I have much of my uncle's tact."   
  
_That's the kriffing truth, at least. You don't have tact and you never will. You just open your big mouth and say whatever comes to mind, kriff the consequences._ He projected the thought as best he could, hoping she'd catch it.   
  
_/Shut up Garik!/_   
  
Jaina's gaze levelled on Oosan. "When you next convene with the Senate, feel free to tell that I will never darken their door on Jedi business – ever. Nor will I ever ask 'permission'. I am a Jedi Knight – I will do what is right for the Jedi and the Free Alliance but never for the politicians."   
  
Garik bit down on a curse the moment the words slipped past her lips. She was brave – there was no doubt in his mind about _that_ – and he would back her in any way possible, but her timing was atrocious. _She might have her mother's looks but she is definitely her father's daughter,_ he decided dryly. _She'd make quite the smuggler with her instinct to shoot while the other is still blowing air around._   
  
But perhaps he could still do some damage control – after all, the senate hadn't heard of her promise yet. If he hurried, he might even be able to get to Mon Cal before Oosan. _You just had to open your mouth, didn't you Solo?_ He felt the corners of his mouth twitch. Ah, but stangitall, Solo certainly knew how to liven up a boring Insiders' meeting.   
  
"Well," he said quickly before Oosan could cause any more damage and before Jaina could start a vortex. "Are there any other topics that need to be discussed?" _Say "no", say "no", you all know you want to say "no"…c'mon._ For a moment he thought he saw Jaina open his mouth but he when he shot her a look she sat back in her chair, pouting slightly. "No one? All right then, I think it's safe to say we can all leave now and go back to our regular schedules?" He looked to General Antilles for confirmation.   
  
The other man nodded once. "Class dismissed, kids; next week we'll be studying how to avoid bickering in a war." When beings began to stand and move toward the door, the general added, "Oosan, might I have a word?"   
  
_Tear a strip off him for me Wedge,_ Garik thought as he pulled his bag over his shoulder. _Heck, tear one off for Jaina too, while you're at it._   
  
"I can take care of myself."   
  
He turned and smiled at the woman in front of him. "My dear Solo; what did I tell you about reading my mind?"   
  
Her returning smile was flat and did not reach her eyes. "What are you doing here?"   
  
"Meeting with the Insiders, of course."   
  
She rolled her eyes in disgust. "Don't give me that. I don't need 'legal representation' – if I did, I'd get a lawyer and it wouldn't be you, even though you're as bad as one."   
  
"I'll take that as a compliment – my mother's a lawyer."   
  
She nodded once and fell in step with him, hooking her arm in his. "How _is_ your mother?"   
  
"She's planning her Mon Cal wedding. Did you know saying your vows on the beach – during the beginnings of a storm – is considered romantic?"   
  
"Is she getting married to Fra'rant?"   
  
"Nah; Trasint Herth."   
  
She blinked and gave him an odd look. "Trasint Herth? I don't know him – what's he like?"   
  
He shrugged easily and led her to a discreet corner of the large conference room, keeping an eye on Oosan. "No idea; I'll be meeting him for the first time at the wedding – if I manage to get time off."   
  
"You're not in the military Garik; you won't have a problem with getting time. How's your dad?"   
  
"He's dead."   
  
She stopped abruptly, blinking up at him, her eyes guarded carefully. "I'm sorry."   
  
"Yeah, me too." His voice was soft, his grip around her waist tightening for a moment. Abruptly he shook his head out of la-la land and back to Jaina and the present. He had had quite enough of small talk. His blue-grey eyes locked on hers. "Are you _trying_ to commit political suicide?"   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
"Don't play innocent. What was with that vow? You trying to sink yourself?"   
  
Her eyes blinked away from his. "I told the truth. I'm not going to serve politicians."   
  
"And so you decide to walk the edge of treason. Of course."   
  
"It's not treason," she insisted. "I said _I_ wouldn't darken their doorway."   
  
"So who…oh, me." He sighed and shook his head.   
  
"You can if you want to. Personally, I'd rather just wash my hands of politics but if you'd like to offer your services…"   
  
He stared at her, standing there, shadowed pain shadowing her eyes. She knew he would do it – of course she did; he'd promised to watch her back. He wondered if she really believed him when he said that; she was certainly holding enough back. He pushed a strand of hair out of her face and kissed her cheek quickly. "Don't get into too much trouble while I'm gone."   
  
Her expression was innocent. "Me? Get into trouble? Really, Garik, we Solos are the most reserved – "   
  
"Rebellious, stubborn, impulsive people in the galaxy. I know. Be good Solo, I don't want to have to spend my life inside the Senate hall."   
  
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get going – Wedge's almost done with Oosan."   
  
His eyes flickered over to the Twi'lek, then back to Jaina. "M'lady." He bowed once, then turned on his heel, his mind already sinking into the strategic defence of Jaina's decisions.

~*~*~

After watching Garik stride out the door, Jaina wandered over to Wedge and Oosan. Wedge, seeing her, said something that caused the Twi'lek to scuttle away. When he passed her, Jaina glared at Oosan. _Kriffing Sith_, she thought at him. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on who you asked), Oosan was in no way bonded to her and so did not catch her contempt. She shrugged it off. She had broken her ties with politicians today – let Garik try to prove his trustworthiness by taking care of the worm.   
  
"Jaina, I have to speak with Tycho for a while longer," Wedge said, breaking into her thoughts. "When you go back to our quarters tell Iella to go on with supper without me."   
  
She neutralised a flinch at the normal request, nodding curtly instead before turning away, dismissal stinging her ego. Really, though, what had she expected? Had she really thought Wedge would see that if he wanted her to be another Luke Skywalker and bring the Jedi, peace and prosperity back to the galaxy, he would have to _treat_ her that way?   
  
No. He did not seem to grasp it. Apparently he was content to tell her to do what her uncle had done years ago and still treat her as a child. As such she was constantly being pulled in two different directions. _It would have been so much better for the galaxy if it was_ Jacen _that lived instead of me!_ she decided pessimistically. _At least, as a former captive of the 'Vong and a "man mature beyond his years" people would listen to him._   
  
Trudging down the stairs to enter the main part of the base, she avoided meeting the gazes of others, avoided hearing the whispers. She looked a sight, she knew, with her Goddess uniform plastered to her skin, her hair soaking from the rain and her face pasty white. Ever since what the galaxy had begun to call the "Eclipse Massacre" she had looked like a wraith and she knew it.   
  
_Princess Leia would be horrified._   
  
It was only when she stepped into the Antilles' quarters that she realised with quiet amazement that the thought was not bitter. Instead, it was slightly with nostalgia and slight amusement that she recalled her mother. If Jaina was mocking anyone, it was herself. It was as if only her mother's death was able to fix their broken, resentment-filled relationship.   
  
To her right, she could hear someone humming softly and she entered the kitchen. Her gaze was drawn first to Iella who was at the oven, stirring a sauce. For a moment, it seemed as if Iella shrank and her hair blurred brown. Jaina blinked the illusion away quickly, her gaze sweeping the room.   
  
A table set for three stood in the middle of the room, two chairs and a stool placed about it. The kitchen was small, but bigger than Jaina's in her own quarters, and in order. It reminded her of the Solo kitchen from before the war. Everything neatly labelled, everything where it should be. She found it depressingly ironic to see this kitchen in the midst of such a chaotic war but then, the Force had never been a good comedian.   
  
"Ah, there you are!" Iella had turned around without Jaina noticing and the Jedi jumped slightly. "Dinner's ready whenever you and Wedge are."   
  
Jaina stared at her hold-mother for a moment before her mouth muscles could move. "Wedge…Wedge had to speak with Tycho. He says not to keep supper waiting."   
  
There was silence for a beat and then Iella smiled. Jaina didn't know why Iella bothered – as a Jedi she could see – _feel_ – Iella's disappointment nearly as well as if it had been her own. "Well, come and sit down. We'll have to do without Wedge for a bit. How was your – "   
  
Jaina interrupted her before the sympathies and false, motherly concerns could pass the Intelligence head's lips. "I'm not very hungry."   
  
Iella blinked, though no doubt she wasn't surprised. "Oh. Are you sick? Would you like me to get you some medicine?"   
  
_You're not my mother, Iella. Please don't try to be._ "Actually, I'm tired and I have some reports to fill out. Maybe some other time." She turned away from the Iella's upset, tired expression and exited the kitchen.   
  
When she stepped into her room she felt the tears build behind her eyes, pricking them. These tears did not threaten to signal her breaking in a flood, but in the soft misery and sudden need for someone – anyone – to reach out to her.   
  
_Iella just tried to reach out_, a small voice reminded her.   
  
Her eyes closed for a moment. It wasn't the same. Sure, Wedge tried but he seemed to see her as the sole remaining Jedi before a child. And she was beginning to feel just like that – a lost child. Wedge couldn't see that. Instead, she was something that needed to be protected for a while so that in the near future she could save the galaxy, even if it meant her death. Vaguely, she wondered if dying for the galaxy when you wanted to die was still a sacrifice.   
  
Shaking her head, she pulled her plain white night-gown out of her drawers. She changed quickly and rebraided her hair, moving her mind to Wedge and Oosan's idea of taking an apprentice. It was absurd, of course. Even if it _was_ safe, she was Knighted just two years ago. There was still so much she didn't know. Along with all the Jedi, the _Eclipse_, the Academy, a great deal of Jedi knowledge was also gone. It had taken her uncle a quarter of a century to discover everything he knew…which was most likely insignificant compared to what the Jedi of the Old Republic knew. It would take Jaina most of her life to rise to the level of a Jedi Master.   
  
And yet, still part of her argued against her refusal…after all, she _had_ been trained all her life; she was not a stranger to the Force. Also, a Jedi Master was mostly a Jedi Knight with years of practice and an apprentice that had been Knighted. It would be difficult, yes, but impossible?   
  
She sank to her bed. No, it would not be impossible…or would it? Her temper and stubborn nature were sure to make her a bad mentor, right?   
  
_But I am a Jedi Knight,_ part of her argued. _I can learn to control my temper and stubbornness. Aunt Mara did.   
  
But she had Uncle Luke,_ Jaina argued. _I have…no one.   
  
Not true, Solo. You have memories. You have –   
  
No. He's gone._ Her head dropped into her hands, unwanted memories flooding her mind. Pain…so much pain as their bond snapped like a dry twig… "He's gone." With that spoken admission, her small frame began to wrack with dry sobs.   
  
And still no tears fell from the growing harbour of liquid crystals behind the eyes of the Sword of the Jedi.   
  
She was beyond tears now; no mere apprentice could save her from that.   
  
**** 

**Blackbird singing in the dead of night   
Take these broken wings and learn to fly;   
All your life   
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.   
  
Blackbird singing in the dead of night   
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see;   
All your life   
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.   
  
Blackbird,   
Fly,   
Blackbird,   
Fly,   
Into the light of a dark, black night.   
  
Blackbird,   
Fly,   
Blackbird,   
Fly,   
Into the light of a dark, black night.   
  
Blackbird singing in the dead of night   
Take these broken wings and learn to fly;   
All your life   
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,   
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,   
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.   
  
~_Blackbird_, words and music by John Lennon and Paul McCartney**   
  
* * *   
  
Iella peeked into Jaina's room several hours later to see the young woman sprawled across her bed, a blanket draped over her, dark hair a sharp contrast to the white bedspread. The Intelligence head smiled, shaking her head wryly, and moved to the bed. For a moment, she only watched the Jedi, took in the almost determinedly blank expression on her face, her fist clutching the blanket tightly, as if for security. Her features were soft and child-like, dispelling the hardened exterior that helped her cast away political ties and survive.   
  
Shaking her head again, Iella retrieved a heavier blanket from the closet and placed it over Jaina, covering her. Sighing, she brushed away the strands of hair that had fallen across the Jedi's face and straightened.   
  
Jaina tossed suddenly, as if struggling against an iron hold, and Iella paused. When Jaina relaxed again, Iella turned slowly and left, closing the door behind her as she went. _Sweet dreams, Jaina; I pray you find the peace you need…_   
  
* * *   
  
_She watched her life; saw it float around her, memories causing her head to spin. She saw what she had lived through – the Empire, Black Sun, the Vong, and more – and, for the first time, appreciated them. She saw how the kidnappings of her youth had built her determination.   
  
She saw how her famous family had given her a sense of responsibility.   
  
Being a Jedi had taught her honour.   
  
Her suffering had given her empathy; the danger that lurked behind every corner taught her to use caution to temper her rebellious spirit.   
  
Being a squadron leader quickened her mind, taught her efficiency and trained her in accepting the consequences to her actions.   
  
Being a goddess gave her confidence.   
  
The politics her mother had brought into her life taught her to be weary of deception and on the lookout for ulterior motives.   
  
She saw how her life had never been settled – teaching her to adapt.   
  
_**Do you understand, Sword of the Jedi?**_ a voice asked.   
  
She saw her life; she saw everything how everything she had done – everything that had been done to her – had made her who she was.   
  
_**Do you see?** _The voice was becoming more insistent now, more urgent. _**DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!**_   
  
// " 'Sword of the Jedi, huh?"   
  
"It's not a big deal." Her eyes refused to meet his.   
  
"Sounds like a big deal to me – you know, the whole 'you-have-a-capitalized-name-for-your-destiny' kind of deal."   
  
"I'm no one special; it's just one big misunderstanding."   
  
"That's what you say, Goddess…"//   
  
_**Yes**_, she thought. _**Yes; finally, I understand – I think.   
  
Good…**   
  
* * *   
  
Jaina awoke with a start, panting lightly. Her head dropped into her hands, disbelief coursing through her. As the foggy remnants of sleep vanished she found her confusion. Why had she been sleeping in the middle of the afternoon? There were still reports to be filled out, new recruits to be broken in…and _what_ had she dreamed? It pricked at the edge of conscience thought, begging to be realized, but floated just out of her reach…   
  
Her fists pounded against her bed in frustration and lightly bounced against the springs. Sighing, she climbed out of bed and went toward her closet to get a towel. Perhaps a hot shower would help clear her mind, she thought, not really believing it.   
  
She was half way to the 'fresher when she felt the Force tremble dangerously in warning…   
  
* * *   
  
**On the other side of the base**   
  
Tiran locked his bedroom door behind him, and then pulled his shoes and shirt off. He sank into his bed on his back, his dark blue eyes closed tightly, as if he was trying to wish the day away. He stayed that way for several moments before sitting up. _Get it together, Lee-droy. There's stuff to do. No time to feel sorry for yourself._   
  
He dragged his body off the bed and sat down at his desk, glaring wrathfully at the paperwork that stared up at him. He filled out the reports reluctantly, his distaste and boredom making him sloppy – not that it mattered. The forms were only a formality; the head mechanic would give a complete analysis of the condition of the Free Alliance ships.   
  
Upon finishing, his mind began to slide into dangerous territory. Shoving the depressing memories aside, his gaze swept his room in search of distraction. Instead, he found his regard caught by the holo of a small, dark-haired girl. His stomach turned over once. _Calair…_   
  
From a distance he heard glass shatter and an increasingly strong wind whip at his clothes and air but he paid it no mind. _Withering plants crumbling in his hands…the smell of burning hair. The sound of bones snapping like twigs…silent screams of agony from the dead and dying…_   
  
He clutched his throbbing head, anger and hatred at his incompetence to save _them_ mounting whilst only one thought remained clear and definite:   
  
_I must not give into this…_   
  
  
  
  
  
  
~TJF


	7. Tiran Leedroy

Approximately one year before the Eclipse Massacre   
  
Tiran whistled quietly as he worked on the X-wing. Other than the sound of his quiet tinkering, breathing and whistle, the docking bay was quiet and he revelled in it. Since the war had begun, these moments had become far too rare. Brushing at some of the lukewarm grease he felt on his cheek, he checked the fuel levels in the fighter again. Someday, he thought lazily, he would have to learn to fly an X-wing. Perhaps, after the war, Molair would…   
  
"Lee-droy? Hey, Lee-droy!" The grim, rough voice broke into Tiran's thoughts and the mechanic stepped out of the fighter's shadow, waving once, over his head, to catch Qimrak's attention. "Yeah, boss?"   
  
The grizzled man walked over to the younger man and scratched his neck uncomfortably. "You're from Lin-Ta, right?"   
  
Tiran's forehead creased in confusion. "Yeah; born and raised there; why?"   
  
The overseer ran a hand through his thinning grey hair and grimaced. He liked Tiran – the kid was a talented mechanic and had his head screwed on right and Qimrak hated to be the bearer of bad news. His assistant – freshly promoted and overeager – had offered to tell Lee-droy but Qimrak had declined. He was in charge around here; it was _his_ responsibility to watch out for his charges.   
  
Ah, but he wished he had – for just _this once_ – overlooked his responsibility!   
  
Qimrak gestured to his office reluctantly. "There's something on the Holonet you should see…"   
  
End of flashback   
  
~*~*~   
  
Things were not going well in the Senate; it seemed no one had known that any of the Jedi – let alone Jaina – were alive, making an already bad situation worse. _Kriffing Sith, Solo; if you want me to help you, you have to tell me these things! _  
  
Garik had not been able to beat Oosan to the Senate. It was not for lack of trying on Garik's part, but, rather, a matter of transportation. Oosan's private ship had been geared to fly to Bothawui as soon as necessary while Garik had to wait for his ship to be refuelled (the mechanics "hadn't the time" to do so while he was gone) and power up. Garik hadn't thought Oosan to be shrewd (_or intelligent_, he thought derisively) enough to think of hindering him…   
  
"…This is just another sign of the Jedi's rebellion against the Free Alliance!" one politician shouted into his mike (_as if we couldn't all hear him_, Garik thought, his jaw tightening). "The Jedi, as we have seen consistently throughout the years must be watched or they will rise up against us and – "   
  
"Jedi Knight Solo merely stated she would not work with politicians," Garik chastised from his floating dais in the centre of the theatre that was serving as the temporary Senate hall. "She has made a point of guaranteeing her constant protection of the Free Alliance and – "   
  
"The Jedi have always said that to cover their incompetence," a brunette, human senator Garik didn't recognize (_"Narath Kinsap," a small, electronic voice offered in Garik's earpiece._) interrupted coldly. "The Jedi swore to protect the Old Republic, which, in the end, fell to the ambitions of two Jedi. The Jedi then promised to protect the New Republic, but they refused to put an end to the invasion of the Yuuzhan Vong. How much bloodshed could have been avoided if the Jedi had given the Yuuzhan Vong the only thing they demanded in return for peace? Is that how protectors act? If so, perhaps the only way they ever served their government was by dying!" The cheers that followed the brunette's words sickened Garik but he continued.   
  
"It was the Sith that overthrew the Old Republic," he corrected with all the smoothness of the late Lando Calrissian, to all the galaxy appearing unflappably amused by the other's rant, "and their first act of doing so was to destroy the Jedi.   
  
"It is largely in part to the Jedi that the New Republic was created and as safe as it was for as long as it was. They made sacrifice after sacrifice – "   
  
"But when it came to the greatest of sacrifices – the sacrifice that would truly bring peace – they refused!" a representative from Kuat added quietly but firmly.   
  
"If they had given themselves up, it would have been in vain," Garik replied quickly. "The 'Vong – "   
  
"_Yuuzhan_ Vong," a voice chided.   
  
_As if I want to give them any respect!_ "The '_Vong_," Garik repeated, purposely ignoring the voice, "have not kept a single promise they have made to us – don't tell me you have forgotten Ithor so quickly."   
  
"Have you forgotten Lin-Ta?" the brunette reciprocated. "Where were the Jedi _then_?"   
  
Immediately the senator's fervour made more sense and only years of being around politicians allowed Garik to keep a blank expression. "There was no warning for Lin-Ta Senator Lee-droy," he reminded the Senate wearily. "There was nothing anyone could have done."   
  
"Lin-Ta created the most advanced communication vessels in the galaxy; no doubt they sent the message to the incompetent Jedi rather than the Senate."   
  
Having no "appropriate" answer (_a.k.a. an answer that wouldn't get him thrown out of the Senate_), Garik attempted to bring the debate back to Jaina's vow and (_horrifyingly enough_) what could actually be considered safer territory. "Jaina Solo is only one person," he stated firmly, making eye contact with several key politicians. "She is a young Jedi Knight the daughter and niece of Rebellion heroes. Luke Skywalker and Leia and Han Solo put their blood, sweat, and tears into protecting the galaxy; Jedi Knight Solo was raised to do the same. Why should she wish to commit treason? _How_ would she?"   
  
Dark murmurs swept throughout the theatre. Garik caught only fragments – "apprentices," " 'Vong," and repetitive references to "Vader's granddaughter".   
  
He bit back a curse. _What have I gotten myself into?_ He sighed and took a seat. _May as well get comfortable; this is going to take a while…_

~*~*~

It took trying to comb her hair with the bar of soap while in the shower for Jaina to realize her mind was on planet Weirdness-Felt-Through-The-Force and not planet Unmuddle-And-Relax. Sighing, she rinsed her hair a last time and turned off the hot stream of water. "What's the point of having unlimited shower time if you're too frazzled to care?" she grumbled, stepping out of the shower, droplets of water sliding down her skin onto the cool dura-tile floor. Wrapping her bathrobe around her still wet body and a towel around her dripping hair, she sent a gentle probe through the Force, searching for the disturbance she had felt before. It was probably the first "Jedi-thing" she had done in months. Perhaps the Force had somehow known that she was unable to think of touching the true loneliness of her existence – which the current emptiness of the Force reminded her of constantly – without breaking. Now, however, the Force was forsaking any sympathy it had previously shown to urgency, demanding her attention.   
  
**_Meditate._**   
  
The sudden command that seemed to come from the Force itself startled a gasp out of her and she had to grab the plexi-counter to steady herself. When a small measure of balance returned to her, she stumbled to her room. Locking the door behind her, she fell in a heap on the ground, her strength suddenly spent. **_No_**, she thought, though if it was to the Force and/or whoever was speaking to her through an unknown bond, she did not know.   
  
**_Yes; meditate – now! _**  
  
Pressure began to build at the base of her spine and continued upwards, as if it were trying to squeeze the resistance out of her. It was only when her skull began to numb that she gave up. **_Alright, alright; I'll meditate._** Immediately her strength returned and the pain retreated, the only proof of its existence a hoarse rattling that remained in her throat.   
  
Folding her legs underneath her, she took a shaky breath and sank into the Force…   
  
* * *   
  
"Yes," he muttered gleefully, clapping his hands in excitement. "Yes, Jaina…find _me_." He bounced lightly in his chair, a crazed glint in his black eyes…   
  
* * *   
  
Tiran closed his eyes in relief as he felt the storm pass, as he felt the rage slip away from him like water. Never before had it been so bad – so strong. Hazily, he wondered what had been different this time from all the other times. Drawing his trembling fingers through his hair, he forced himself to breathe in and out, calming him…   
  
* * *   
  
She frowned in her meditation, though she was not aware of it. Her mind – submerged in the Force as it was – was at the same time aware and unaware of any physical aspects of the galaxy. In the cold – but somehow soothing – blackness of the Force, two lights began to pulse. One was beautiful, serene and gentle while the other was chaotic and confused. Something _tugged_ at her mind, drawing her closer to the first light. She allowed herself to be pulled for a moment, then stopped as the _cold_ness, the hardness of the light hit her abruptly.   
  
As if feeling her hesitancy, the light pulled more insistently. **_Come…_**   
  
The voice was like water, water that was causing her to rust and preventing more and more of her movement. Beginning to feel desperation rise up within her, she struggled against the light. No longer was there any vague resemblance of beauty to the light's credit; it was hard, bright, and coarse. Crying out, she tried to escape the light's tentacles, even as she was pulled deeper into its icy depths…   
  
**_Come to me…_**   
  
* * *   
  
Tiran pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, rocking slightly, head buried in his kneecaps. His head was pounding. He wished it would stop – it was difficult to think when a bantha had made your head made their new sugar-high party room.   
  
It was amazing, he thought darkly, what kind of things could stay with you. He could remember exactly who the holo-net anchor who had given the report on Lin-Ta but he could not remember what she said. He must have run, though, because his next memory was of being in an X-wing he barely knew how to fly, headed toward his home. He could not remember having a plan of action; his only thought had been to save his family and friends.   
  
Perhaps it would not have been so terrible if he had not gone. As it was, the images were glued to his mind, never to let go. He could still feel the feel of warm blood when he had brushed his mother's hair out of her face. He could still see the burnt bodies of his friends, strewn across the street, could still smell the smell of scorched hair. Every time he closed his eyes he could hear their dying screams. And Calair… He closed his eyes tightly, rubbing his tears away. His little sister's body had been mangled until she was nearly unrecognizable. Half her skin had been pulled away, and all her blood – drained. Her blue eyes had been wide, terrified   
  
There had been no warning. By the time anyone could have sent a message, half the planet was destroyed. It was proclaimed an "unstoppable tragedy" but he couldn't help but wonder…had it really been "unstoppable"? _The Jedi were kriffing celebrating while a planet was destroyed._ Lin-Ta had always been a planet that fully supported the Jedi, and Tiran was not the only one who occasionally wished to be a Jedi, but what had it gotten them? They were destroyed, every last one.   
  
_The Jedi couldn't have known; **nobody** knew._   
  
He shook his head in savage denial. No, there _must_ have been something someone could have done! Calair, his sister, the one who always trusted him to protect her was _dead_. It had to be _someone's_ fault – but who's?   
  
_The Jedi._   
  
His shoulders slumped. His whole life he had looked up to the Jedi, had wanted to be a Jedi, but after Lin-Ta…   
  
_It has to be **someone's** fault!_   
  
He could not accept it as a senseless moment in history that could not have been stopped. The Jedi could sense everything that was going on with their mystical Force, could they not? So why hadn't they done anything? While they were celebrating with their "Knighting" ceremony, an entire civilization was wiped out. He had come from a large family – upward of seventy members that he knew of – but, now, he was the only one left. What gave the 'Vong the right to take the lives of others?   
  
What gave the Jedi the right to ignore the 'Vong?   
  
That had been the question that rang through his head when he had finally collapsed on the front step of his – former – home. It had been then that his revelation had come; it was then that he noticed what others had been noticing for so long: the Jedi were ignoring the problem. The self-proclaimed "guardians of peace" were _ignoring the problem._   
  
Perhaps it was then that the Darkness had begun to seep into him, when "the iron had entered his soul."   
  
His arm shot out, not to hit anything – there was nothing for him _to_ hit – but to let out some pent up energy.   
  
Pent up energy was dangerous – lethal, even.   
  
It was then that he heard the scream...   
  
* * * * 

~TJF


	8. What Lurks In the Shadows

_The eight souls watched as Jaina resisted the pull of her future nemesis.   
  
"She cannot fight him alone," the First Said.   
  
The Second nodded at their place by the First's side. "She will need her Edge."   
  
"And her Shield," the Third added quietly, drawing the others' eyes. Their thoughts melded for a moment until they became nearly one. Finding the Third's thoughts and memories, Seeing what he Saw, all but the Fifth moved away from the Third again, their minds more settled.   
  
"This is a fact," the Fifth agreed.   
  
"But…her Edge," the Fourth started, before their Voice trailed off.   
  
"He will have his own difficulties," the Sixth Said as he moved closer to the Fourth.   
  
The Seventh barked softly. "He will not accept it easily."   
  
"He_ must_," the Third interrupted, his face grim. "If he does not accept, it is the end of them. It is his destiny. He cannot escape it."   
  
"And if he tries?" the Second Asked bluntly.   
  
The first being's face mirrored the grimness of the being that had been his brother when they were Dead. "Then her Shield must catch her. It is possible that, together, she and the Shield will have the strength to…"   
  
"No," a soft voice interrupted. The Eight froze and cast their eyes about. Never had the Others attempted to reach them. The Others were complete; They had no need to watch those that were Dead as the Eight did. When they turned their Eyes to the newcomer, however, they understood. The newcomer was not complete either. Nor would the newcomer be for some time. The newcomer was a loner and they Accepted her the moment she moved into their group. The Ninth, the newcomer would be. The Ninth waited only for one being – one that had been given a fate worse than Death. When that being joined the Ninth, the two would become One and they would leave the Eight, but until then, she was one of them.   
  
"No," the Ninth repeated. "The Shield's destiny will not truly entwine with the Sword's for some time. They have a long journey before they will be able to realize their fate."   
  
The original Eight exchanged glances, their expressions grave at the memory of_ that _future.   
  
Finally, the Voice of the Third broke the silence. "We must trust in the Force, my friends…"_   
  
* * *   
  
He giggled. "Pretty girls in pink dresses; little boys in pilot's garb; one and all came to welcome Johnny home…Oh, won't you come and play with me?" The nonsense ditty did not even rhyme but seemed to amuse him nonetheless. "Won't you come play, Master?" he whispered before clasping his hands over his mouth impishly as his shoulders shook with mirth. "Come, Master…"   
  
* * *   
  
Garik shifted in his chair and sighed, too wearied to move from his chair, two hour recess or no. Most of the senators that had been battering the Jedi were now gone, gratified for the break. Only a few remained in the hall, chatting quietly. If they had looked up, they might have wondered at Garik's outward show of unruffled dignity and confidence. They didn't, however, and so he was ignored; he did not find himself caring overmuch.   
  
He had always been part of the political circle, first because of his father, and then through his own workings. He was not the youngest diplomat by far – he had started when he was nineteen, five years ago – but many looked down on him because of his age. He was promising and intelligent, though, and his determination was admirable. The less stubborn minds respected him and acknowledged his potential for power and influence, should he go about it correctly.   
  
It was his very precociousness that made some wonder why he would permit himself to become entangled with the Jedi. It was not popular to do so; better senators, better _beings_ had been scorned and turned to the side because of their devotion to the Jedi. The Klamaths and the Solos had known each other and often took the same side in political matters. Even so, the two families had not been so close that the son of Vuthar Klamath should feel the need to potentially sacrifice his political future.   
  
Others, however, knew of Garik and Jaina's relationship and wondered why he had only begun to fight so fiercely for the young Jedi Knight now. The older, more experienced politicians especially knew of Garik and Jaina's "partnership," knew the havoc the Solo daughter and Klamath son had created as children. Some of them had even felt the sharp side of Jaina's tongue should a slight be made against Garik. Others' sons had come home with black eyes and eternal isolation should the poor boy have made the mistake of so much as looking at Jaina the wrong way in Garik's presence. The idea that time and growth had mellowed Garik's protectiveness of Jaina Solo was embarrassingly absurd.   
  
So the Senate was divided in their opinions of Diplomat Klamath's savage defence of Jedi Knight Jaina Solo. Some were disgusted by it, could almost _hear_ his career going down the drain. Others took notice of his continual lobbying for Jaina and admired his loyalty, as well his determination. Still others were objective enough in their thinking to know that this fight would either make or break Garik Klamath.   
  
The man in question seemed unaware of the hundreds of eyes that rested on him, waiting for him to slip up and throw his career into the garbage chute, or win his case spectacularly. Outwardly, he projected confidence, as he had been taught to always do by his father. Inwardly, however, his mind was going into overdrive.   
  
There was something wrong.   
  
He could feel it, down to the very bottom of his shoes. He didn't know how he knew, or what was causing his mind and spirit to go into turmoil, but he knew that it had to do with Jaina. Something was happening, something terrible, and he helpless to stop it.   
  
If there was one thing Garik Klamath hated, it was being helpless.   
  
All his life, he had been something of a protector to Jaina. He had, in his own way, adopted her when they were children and made himself her champion. When she lit off, trying to find trouble, he would pull her back and go first, to make sure she wasn't hurt. She had never been able to use words to get out of trouble the way Garik had, and so she had instinctively stepped back and allowed him to talk their way out of sticky situations.   
  
Of many of the things he had done in his life, his relationship with Jaina was one of the things he took the most pride in. Knowing that she trusted him, knowing that he could help her even if he _wasn't_ a Jedi, was something that had gotten him through many things in his life. He might have felt insignificant next to others, might have been unable to stop his parents' divorce, but he had always been able to protect Jaina – from herself or anyone else.   
  
And then…_It_ had happened, and she had pushed him away. He understood why she had done it, even if she didn't. He always _had_ known her better than anyone else – even Jacen commented on it. He was one of the few that could see past all the Bantha dung she might project, right to her very core and after the events of that day so long ago, she couldn't stand to be vulnerable.   
  
The first time he saw her after the "tragedy" she had stared at him for a long period of time, her eyes searching for something in his. She seemed to find it, because she gave him a small smile and reached out to squeeze his hand. They had spoken for only a few moments – she was preparing to leave and he caught her while she was packing – and it had only been somewhat settling. For years, he had dedicated himself to defending her. When she cut loose, he was left flapping in the breeze, with no real cause. He had moved into politics the way his parents and Jaina (the latter had done so grudgingly and he sometimes wondered what his parents had told her) had encouraged him to. Unsurprisingly, a majority of his logic in doing so centred about his ability to help the Jedi, particularly the young woman who had allowed herself to cry only on _his_ shoulder when they were children.   
  
Perhaps he had not truly thrown himself into the fight because he was waiting for Jaina to need him again. But now that she did require help, he seemed to be able only to protect her from small potatoes. He was fighting in the Senate while something else attacked her and he had no doubt it was more dangerous than some squabbling senators.   
  
But what was it? If he only knew, he might be able to help her. He might be able to fly off and hope to get there in time for a gallant rescue, or at least call for back up. As it was, he didn't even know if it was a _physical_ threat. For all he knew, she could have obtained some poison that would take over her brain and make her fight for the 'Vong.   
  
His fist clenched in his lap a moment as he thought. Then, coming to a decision, he grabbed his cloak and left the Senate hall. He wouldn't be able to help her from the Senate hall, but nor would he be doing her any good by leaving. She was on a military base. She was playing the part of a goddess in psychological warfare. He was going to have to entrust her safety to the military, for now.   
  
But it was kriffing likely that he'd be entrusting her to the armed forces for long. He wouldn't be able to relax until he was able to see her with his own eyes; something that couldn't happen until he tied up the political end of her troubles.   
  
He chuckled softly. The politicians wanted to stir up trouble? Fine; they could just bring it on. Garik might not have been as troublesome a child as Jaina, but he could start – and finish – a fight worthy of victory when he needed to. This was one of those times.   
  
_Hold on, Jaina…_   
  
* * *   
  
The light's pull became more insistent and as Jaina's limbs leadened, she searched for an anchor. Someone – there had to be someone she could use to anchor herself with! Her mind moved sluggishly over people she had bonds with, no matter how tentative.   
  
_Wedge? No…that wouldn't work; not personal enough…   
  
Sanar?_ She attempted to shake her head before realising she couldn't. _No, she's dead…for years now…Kyp was_ – She mentally dislodged the thought and continued on.   
  
_Clayra?_ She reached out as far as she could. _No…too far…_   
  
She reached back in her mind and noticed a wiry, defiant bond before blinking in astonishment. _When did I bond with Jagged Fel?!_ Her memories of the Chiss colonel were foggy at best. Slightly shaken, an image of a tall man with dark hair and green eyes appeared in her mind before she pushed it aside. The colonel in question was too far to help her, she decided. She'd have to think about the implications of this later. That settled in her mind, she moved her focus back to her current situation.   
  
Despite her struggles – or perhaps because of them – she continued to get closer to the light. The malicious Darkness was far from subtle and she felt her life Force begin to wane, as if it couldn't stand the feel of evil.   
  
She felt hope stir within her as she realised that her life force was not trying to escape, but rather trying to pull her to something – or some_one_ – else. Dragging her reluctant head to the side, she could just "see" three other lights out of the corner of her eye. The first two, she could not place, though they tickled at the back of her mind, entreating for recognition. The third flared brightly and outward, as if it were expanding to reach out to her.   
  
It took her a moment to place the owner of the light, not because she didn't recognize its possessor, but because, seeing the new sparks of sentinel beings, the malicious light preyed even more frantically on her mind and spirit. The fact that she had not expected to see him here did not help either.   
  
_Garik?_   
  
~*~*~

In a panic he realized his attempts to bring Master to him were not working. Gasping, he flailed outward and opened himself even more to the life energy that surrounded him. Eyes rolling madly in head, he allowed his body to take in the power of the energy, the way a sponge might take in water. "Master!" The command barely got past his lips before he sent it through the Force.   
  
Still Master resisted. He had to stop _them_ from helping her! Those nasty, filthy thieves…   
  
* * *   
  
Tiran frowned as the cry in his mind grew. It was not frantic or uncertain, really; in fact it seemed almost…calm; a plea from a being to a trusted friend. Almost as if the owner of the cry trusted him. He started to stand, but fell to his knees as a Dark kind of power washed over him, pushing him away…   
  
  


  
  
 

~TJF


	9. An Unlikely Hero

Garik reached up to take hold of a datacard from the library shelves, but his knees buckled abruptly and he fell from the ladder, landing painfully in a heap. Frozen, he thought he heard a scream…   
  
* * *   
  
The Dark light shrieked when Jaina tried to move toward Garik's presence, making her all the more certain she would be safe with her childhood "guardian." Ignoring the rabid, mental yelps that sounded from the malevolent light, she threw all her strength into contacting the safe haven Garik's ever-reaching presence offered.   
  
For a moment she didn't move; then, ever so slowly, she felt something _push_ her toward Garik. When she turned she recognized it as the light she had dismissed before for its appearance of harshness. Up close the beams of light emitting from the presence were soft, full and alert. Feeling part of her rise up in anticipation, she recalled her dream.   
  
There was no doubt in her mind now.   
  
* * *   
  
At first all Tiran knew was darkness, then a bright, sharp flash of Light dazzled his mind's eye. Unable to stop himself, he reached out to touch the light in awe. He was startled to feel a small hand reach out of the light and clasp his own. The touch was initially painful, as any contact with pure light is, and he thought he felt lightning sizzle through his veins, into his mind. Even as the pain registered the sensation calmed. Instead of lava the contact with the light felt like a tumultuous, dangerous river, flowing still into him, but healing and empowering rather than taking and wounding.   
  
As the almost sharply bright radiance began to mellow and dim he realized there was a being in the centre of the brilliance. He peered into the glow; dark sapphire eyes met light brown. The air between them tensed and Tiran swore his heart was pounding so loudly that the other being could hear it. He took a cautious step toward her and…   
  
* * *   
  
His anger grew. How had the _thief_ gotten past the block? How?! Gnawing on his fingers anxiously, painfully; the power that came from Master and the thief…he shuddered. So _much_…so much _Light_…so much _power_…he moaned. _Mustn't fail; we mustn't fail…mustn't…_ Though his body was screaming from the power it already contained he put all his hatred, pain, and will into one last blow…   
  
* * *   
  
**_Garik._**   
  
He heard the call even as he began to stand; his confusion weakened his knees and he sank to the floor again. His hand went to his head and he glanced around before realizing the call had been in his mind.   
  
**_Garik, help me, please!_**   
  
"Solo?" he muttered tentatively.   
  
**_Rik!_**   
  
He froze; he hadn't been called "Rik" in years and even then only one person had used the nickname, the same person that had given it to him: Jaina. Oddly, his first thought upon this revelation was, _Kriffing Jedi, can't they find another way to talk to people? Honestly; not everyone can talk into people's minds. She better not have been poking around in there._ Shaking his head, he got to his feet, comm in hand. Screw the Senate; if he wasn't en route to Naboo in one standard hour he would not be held accountable for his actions.   
  
* * *   
  
Jaina felt only a brief swell of power and then any ground she had recovered times five was taken from her.   
  
But the soft light continued to grasp her hands tightly and she drew strength from it.   
  
A vortex ripped at her mind and heart, stirring memories and uncovering latent pain just so, causing her to scream in agony.   
  
Still the soft light pulled and anchored her.   
  
The darkest times of her life were played over and over in her mind until finally the dam broke and she wept real tears. They came not as a storm like she had always expected them to but as the bitter soft sprinkle of liquid crystals a survivor cried.   
  
And the soft light comforted her until her grief abated. When she looked up she saw identical tears tracing his face.   
  
In the presence of this light she found herself secure. For the first time in so long, her mind was clear; her path certain; her will strong – as if she had just been sharpened, had gained an edge. Power surged through her blood.   
  
As if sensing the difference, the light's blue eyes looked down at her and smiled faintly. Together, they fought to reach Garik.   
  
* * *   
  
Iella glanced at her chrono, then at Jaina's door. "I'm sure she's fine," Wedge assured his anxious wife from the table where he was going through the "Sith-spawned" paperwork. "She can't get in much trouble while she's asleep."   
  
She hesitated. "I'd like to check on her – just in case. Jedi seem to find trouble in the safest environments."   
  
Wedge shrugged. With Myri and Syal gone Iella seemed to have shifted her motherly concern onto Jaina. "Call me if there's a Sith attacking," he said drolly.   
  
She rolled her eyes and started across the room to Jaina's door.   
  
* * *   
  
They were fighting him! Pain flowed and burst and bubbled in his mind until his whole body was shaking violently. He would not win; he knew it now in the bleakness of despair.   
  
Still he held on.   
  
* * *

Iella leaned against the door frame a little. "Jaina? Are you awake?" No one answered and the elder woman's gut urged her forward. Unlocking and opening the door, she glanced inside. When looking to the Jedi's bed proved unprofitable, she stepped further into the room. Her gaze fell on a slumped, trembling form and her eyes widened. "Wedge? Wedge; come quickly!"   
  
* * *   
  
"Coruscant Ground Control to the _Silver Moon_, what is your destination?" The loud voice came from the radio in the cockpit. Garik heard it as he took his seat before the co-pilot closed the door. The young diplomat sank into his chair, then buckled his crash webbing. Noticing that his fingers were tapping on the arm rest anxiously, he clenched his hand into a fist.   
  
When he thought he had finally begun to relax his foot began to tap.   
  
* * *   
  
When Wedge entered the room Iella was shaking Jaina frantically. Wedge's brow furrowed in worry, his view of Jaina partially blocked. "Iella?"   
  
Barely looking up, she gestured for him to come closer. He did so and blinked in surprise. Jaina was trembling violently, as if she had exhausted her muscles and was now unable to stop without collapsing. Her eyes were tightly closed and her mouth was twisted in a grimace. She appeared to be meditating, but Wedge had never seen Luke so agitated and drained as Jaina did now – especially not while in meditation.   
  
His com-link was in his hand to summon a med-team before he realized what he was doing. He studied Jaina apprehensively; whatever was happening was clearly a Jedi thing – what could a non-Force-sensitive med-team to for her? Treating Jedi in the throes of a dangerous meditation was probably not covered in their medical text book. Before, the Jedi had always taken care of their own, but now… Even if there _was_ something medically wrong with her, did the base have the equipment to help? A sick feeling twisted his gut as he rehooked his comm to his belt.   
  
_Luke, I hope your niece inherited your strength and resourcefulness…   
  
* * *   
  
Across the galaxy, on the farthest regions of space, a being, very different from the one that was attacking Jaina Solo, stirred. As his eyes slitted open ever-so-slightly a memory floated before his eyes for a moment, taunting him, and a faint echo of danger from where he had once felt the Force lingered in his mind. A low moan escaped him and he wondered if it was yet another trick from_ Them, _all to cause him more pain. But it felt so real this time.   
  
_They've faked other things more realistically, _part of him argued resignedly. It was true. Images of people he had known – if his mind was not playing games with him and he really_ had _known people once – had floated before him, tantalizing him until he would do anything to reach the phantom and then…they disappeared, nothing more than a mere mirage.   
  
Still…how could they create the_ Force, _within him, the way it had so long ago…during better days when he…when…   
  
_When what?_ A raspy, anguished cry sounded in the room, ripped from the being's throat, much the way his pride and strength had been. A scatter of other beings in the chamber stirred dimly but did not wake. They would not for a long time, the being thought cynically. They never woke; it was easier to be asleep or dead or unconscious – anything was better than feeling the pain that stripped your every thought and feeling from you until there was only pain.   
  
He was not allowed the mercy of rest; not once in all his captivity. He did not know how long he had been here, in this torture device that held him and played mind tricks on him, breaking him mentally and physically. Perhaps it had been centuries; perhaps only a few moments. Time did not exist in this ghostly world of torment and isolation and loss. Time belonged to the real world, where there was love, hate, joy, and despair.   
  
Sometimes he found himself capable of conscious thought and he wondered if there really was a warm, tangible world outside of where he was held captive. Was it possible for there to be anything other than pain? He could scarce remember. On good days he would remember a brief touch, flashes of brandy orbs and the sound of a great, moving body of water. Never, however, had he forgotten the Force.   
  
When what felt like the Force tugged again on his mind, more urgently than before, he was having neither a good nor cynical moment. The thing that held him was in the throes of inflicting more suffering on him and indeed, not much was springing to mind at the moment. But then it was there, a cool river whetting his thirsty spirit for a moment, giving brief respite before demanding he listen to it.   
  
Reaching inward and mustering all his strength, he focused on the warning, felt the connection between the threat and his memories. He frowned faintly, but stopped when he found he did not have the strength to affect his physical being even that much and hold onto his spirit. The thing holding him lurched more powerfully than before, seeming to feel his mind drift and wishing to use his moment of distraction to its advantage. Pushing his mind into the deep recesses of previously unimagined pain, the thing pulled and twisted until the being's only thought was, "let me die."   
  
His only thought, that is, save one: a memory of the brandy eyes that haunted him.   
  
Dimly, he realized he had just enough extra strength to send a short burst of power across the galaxy to what very well could have been only a distant dream or mirage.   
  
It would be a long time before he would be capable of conscious thought again.   
  
* * *   
  
Even as the Darkness continued to pull at the Sword and her Edge their bond grew and strengthened visibly. They stumbled only once, but almost fatally as the Dark One found some kind of hold on the Edge. When it seemed that not even the combined strength of the Edge and the Sword could defeat the Darkness, a faint ray of Light pierced the Darkness and lent the two strength, before it faded once more.   
  
Recognizing the Light, the "spirits" smiled._   
  
* * *   
  
Just when she felt she could not continue even with the help of the other light, Jaina felt a warm glow seep into her soul, melting the ice that the evil light had used against her. Forcing her weary "eyes" open, she smiled faintly as Garik's presence pulled her deeper into a kind of embrace. The other Light – the one that had aided her – followed her carefully, seemingly unable to believe her safe, even with Garik.   
  
* * *   
  
He could feel her weakening and for a brief moment he thought he might yet triumph. Then Master reached a subtly powerful light and pain exploded in his mind. He shrieked in agony as fire sprinted through his body like acid. Anger, protectiveness, and freezing hatred screamed at him until his eyes began to bleed. When the blast reached its peak his eyes shattered like glass to allow the tears that streamed down his face and incoherent excuses and babble slid from his lips.   
  
As suddenly as the torrent came, it silenced and the Dark man was shoved back into reality where he whispered a strangled, "Master," and slumped into unconsciousness.   
  
* * *   
  
Jaina "blinked" sleepily as something in Garik's presence changed. Tendrils of his essence wrapped more securely around her, but at the same time he seemed to be distancing himself from her. As if he felt her rising uncertainty Garik paused and she felt something gently brush her cheek. As suddenly as the touch came it was gone and she felt a blast of cold fury emit from him, aimed at the light that had attacked her. The force of Garik's wrath – though not in any way directed at her – seemed to suck energy from her in draining gulps. Both she and the other, oddly familiar Light – where had she seen those eyes before? – flailed a moment, then found the presence of mind to reach out to each other. Once again strength filled them and they stood firm.   
  
The force of the blast intensified a moment, there was an inaudible shriek, and then it stopped and all but Garik – apparently unaware of what he had reflexively done – were thrown back into reality.   
  
* * *   
  
Jaina gave a sudden, soft cry, causing Wedge to look up. She jerked once, then twice, then exhaled deeply, as if with her sigh she released all her tension. When she inhaled again her eyes snapped open. Her eyes moved around the room slowly, as if she had barely the strength even to do that, her face paling rapidly.   
  
"Jaina?" Iella queried, drawing the Jedi's attention.   
  
"Rik," Jaina whispered, almost pleadingly, then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted dead away.   
  
  


~TJF


	10. Dreams of the Future

**Jeff10**: Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed it :)

**Jedi from Rohan**: Yeah…this villain is semi-inspired by Gollum, so you might notice a few similarities.  Sorry if the beginning was more difficult to understand – I first posted it on JC, where I could respond to my readers' questions immediately. Also, this was is/was the first fanfic I posted, so… Thank you! :D 

--------- 

**Part Three:   
Strength Over Weakness; Love Over Hate**   
  


  
_"If I am the last then I shall be a flame to the end."_   
~ "Mother Ocean, Daughter Sea"   
  
  
_"Life eventually breaks everybody. Sometimes, it breaks people and they are stronger at their seams when they come back together. However, those that life can't break, it kills."_   
~Hemingway   
  


  
  
One day later   
  
"She'll be alright, then?"   
  
The med-droid nodded once in answer to Wedge's inquiry. "It would appear Mistress Solo is exhausted emotionally and physically." The droid paused and levelled its gaze on Wedge, its emotionless mask making it appear almost that he was glaring at the Rebel hero, as if it blamed Wedge entirely for Jaina's collapse. "She has not yet woken, but she should soon. Mistress Solo will be able to lead her squadron again in two weeks time; however, I advise you to keep a close eye on her health, unless you want this to happen again."   
  
Wedge thanked the droid and watched it trundle off to its next patient. "If that girl is declared flight-capable before she's twenty-seven, the Force really _is_ with her," he remarked grimly to his wife. It had been thirty-six hours since Jaina had fainted and in that period of time Wedge had yet to leave her side. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Jaina's pale face and her wide, dark eyes when she came out of the trance.   
  
Iella glanced at him tiredly. "Can the Galactic Alliance afford to have her off-duty?"   
  
"Until she's out of dangerous mental territory, it'll have to."   
  
She shook her head and laughed ruefully. "She's twenty, Wedge, and the 'Trickster Goddess.' Do you really think she'll listen to you?"   
  
Before he could answer, their attention was caught by the sound of a man arguing loudly with one of the med-droids around the corridor.   
  
* * *   
  
_She was awake as soon as the door swished open, but she didn't move, except to tighten her grip on her lightsaber. Light footsteps made their way across the room and stopped next to her bed. The intruder started to lean over her and she sprang up, knocking the being to the ground. Rolling automatically onto the being to keep them from moving, she ignited her lightsaber with a _snap-hiss_ at the intruder's neck, only then fully opening her eyes.   
  
Horrifyingly enough, her gaze did not encounter the snarl of a 'Vong warrior, but her new and almost comically wide-eyed master, Kyp Durron. "Time to wake up?" he tried, giving her a look that was part amused and part angry, but mostly confused.   
  
Jaina's cheeks flushed in embarrassment and she averted her eyes. "Sorry," she muttered as she moved off him. "This whole Goddess must be making me a little jumpy."   
  
He seemed to find his bearings. "I've been attacked by worse. Besides," he cast her a grin, his eyes twinkling mischievously, "there are worse things than having a beautiful woman on top of you."   
  
She stared at him, wide-eyed, for a moment, then shook her head slowly. "And I thought being a master would make you grow up."   
  
"I was your baby-sitter for years and you still thought that?" He shook his head mock-disapprovingly. "Poor, naïve Goddess."   
  
He looked tired and drained, she noticed, even as he teased her. For the first time she realized how lasting a scar Sanar's death had left on him. _How much suffering, she wondered, will he have to go through before he's 'justly punished' for his actions at Carida?_   
  
She began to stand, then sank back to the floor. "Why did I need a special wake-up this morning, anyway?"   
  
He appeared to consciously push aside any thoughts of Sanar – which had to be difficult, she thought, as she was nearly Sanar's twin – and quirked one corner of his mouth slightly. "Perhaps there was no special reason; maybe I just wanted to see your beautiful face."   
  
She raised a sceptic eyebrow. "Right; next you'll be telling me that Wedge and you are forming an alliance for the betterment of Endor's environment for the sake of the Ewoks."   
  
A grin blossomed on his lips and his eyes danced. "You won't tell anyone, will you? It's Wedge's surprise birthday present for Janson."   
  
"Kyp, you're my partner, but if you continue to be this mischievous and cheerful in the morning, I'll be forced to hurt you."   
  
"Don't tell me you became serious sometime when I wasn't looking?" When she didn't answer he reached over and tickled her stomach, startling a laugh out of her. She rolled away and he followed her, his status as her ex-babysitter giving him the advantage of knowing where she was most ticklish.   
  
"You are so – dead, Durron," she gasped through giggles.   
  
His eyes held an ironic light as he said, "I don't think you can affect me anymore, Goddess."   
  
She sat up abruptly, moving out of his reach, her eyes widening as reality crashed over her, filling her with its dull, throbbing emptiness. Her eyes skittered around the room; how had she thought this was real? The very air was illusionary, as if out of a faded dream. She was not even wearing her nightclothes, but a loose pair of training pants and tunic. "This…this isn't my memory," she whispered, her gaze flying to Kyp's, looking for an explanation. "This didn't happen."   
  
Kyp straightened and stood, giving her his hand. She accepted it and he pulled her up and over to her bed, where they both sat. "No; if this was your memory we would have been fighting over some tiny, stupid detail." His voice was bitter. "I was able to access your mind through it, though, to talk to you. This," he gestured about him, "is a dream, so you might not remember anything I tell you, but I'll take that chance."   
  
"To talk to…but you're dead, aren't you?" Her voice cracked a little on "dead" but it remained unnoticed.   
  
He hesitated for a few, suspicious moments. "In a manner of speaking," he finally replied, evasively. Before she could ask just what that meant, he changed the subject. "You need to be careful, Jaina."   
  
She frowned in annoyance. Her earlier revelation no longer made sense and Kyp was once again her irritating – if very handsome – partner and an arrogant monkey lizard of a Jedi Master, rather than the man she loved. "_Obviously_ – did it take dying for you to figure that out? I'm not blind, you know."   
  
"Jaina, you can't begin to imagine what he – "   
  
She set her jaw against a sudden flash of pain – or perhaps it was merely from the exasperation he seemed to love making her feel. "We were partners unto death, Kyp, but if you want to repeat things I already know over and over again, I'll find a way to bring you back to life and kill you.   
  
"Garik's helping me with the Senate – even you have to admit I'm safer with him than anyone else." She paused, the truth of her words hitting her with more surprise than they should have. How had she managed to be blind to Garik's always-there presence, forever ready to catch her if she should slip? Was she really that ignorant?   
  
The discovery came and was pushed aside for later – the pile of things that would need to be meditated on seemed to growing rather steadily –and she continued without more than a few moments' pause. "…And what kind of 'Sword of the Jedi' would I be if I couldn't protect myself from the 'Vong?"   
  
He moved closer to her, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if in secrecy. "Jaina, the 'Vong and some petty senators will be the least of your problems." He paused, as if trying to figure out how he could best say what he needed to. "There is a…being that will do anything to bring you to it. It believes you are its 'Master'; it is the thing that tried to pull you to it while you were meditating," he clarified, seeing her dubious look. "That was only the beginning though; it will only become more desperate. Garik might not be able to save you next time."   
  
She straightened, his words making her defensive. "'Rik's more powerful than he seems."   
  
" 'Rik'?" His brow furrowed and his face became drawn. It took her a moment to recognize his expression as one of pain. "Funny," he commented quietly, looking off to the side for a moment.   
  
"What's funny?"   
  
He continued to avert his gaze. "The two of you always made the oddest pair. He was so quiet and careful as a kid but when it came to you…he would always spring up and attack anyone who got in your way. I think your parents let you have even as much freedom as they did because they knew Garik would keep you out of trouble as much as he could. As for you…well," his laugh held little humour, "I seem to recall accidentally walking into 'imaginary games' that made him your most loyal knight, ready to die for his young, beautiful queen, should it come to that."   
  
Her forehead crinkled as she tried to feel out what he was thinking. She was unsuccessful. She studied him, but the longer she looked at him, the more she seemed to be soaking in the chance to see him again, rather than figuring out what was going on in his head. This close he looked so real, so alive, it made her throat tighten. His eyes were the same forest green with flecks of brown that she remembered being caught in before he left for that fatal meeting on the_ Eclipse. _His hair was wild, making him look as if he had just woken up. His Jedi training pants and Tathi cotton shirt were worn, as if they had needed to be replaced even before the war had started. Even his scent (how she could smell in a dream, she wasn't quite sure) was the same: a faint waft of soap, sweat, machinery and spice.   
  
Realizing he had noticed her stare, she blushed. "You look exactly the way I remember," she said softly. Her hand rose of its own accord but dropped before it reached his face, her eyes catching sight of something that_ wasn't _familiar. "Where did you get that scar?" The spidery white line slashed along the left side of his face, just barely missing his eye. The longer she looked at it, the more apparent it became.   
  
His hand went to his face, his expression unreadable. "I didn't want you to see that."   
  
Even as he spoke the scar became slightly pink, then red and new. "Kyp?" Her voice wavered a little.   
  
His lips twitched humourlessly. "My current holding place doesn't exactly promote physical welfare."   
  
It took a moment for his words to sink in – the room was morphing slowly, oddly, and distractingly – but when they did she grabbed his left forearm with an iron grip. " 'Your current holding place'?! Durron, if – does that mean – where_ are _you?"   
  
It was immediately obvious he hadn't meant to let slip what he had. "I'm gone, Jaina; let's leave it at that."   
  
" 'Leave it at that'?" she repeated incredulously. "How can I? If you're alive that means – "   
  
His hands rested on her shoulders and he lowered his head a little so that they were eye-to-eye. "Whether I am physically alive or not, your position won't change. There's nothing you can do for me anymore. I – "   
  
She stood, shoving his hands off her shoulders angrily. "I could at least_ try_! How do you know…Force, Durron, why did you come here if you knew this would happen? Did you come to wave the fact that I let us slip through my fingers in my face? I don't have anyone because I pushed everyone away – I_ get _it. But if there's even a chance I could save you…" her voice trailed off, but the thought continued. _If I could save you, I might be able to save myself._   
  
His eyes dropped to the ground. "Jaina, what we have – had – wouldn't have worked; we both know it. It was just a nice, forbidden dream we made up to avoid fully realizing what was going on around us."   
  
She blinked, her hand going to her throat. "I can't believe you just said that," she whispered. "How…Force!"   
  
He sighed. "Don't act like it's a surprise, Goddess – you knew it even before I did."   
  
She bit her lip, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. "I do love you, you know." She raised her eyes to his. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before…I just…"   
  
He stood and reached across the distance between them to finger the necklace that hung from her neck. His gaze rested steadily on the pendant, his demeanour almost angry, injured. "You couldn't let it go; I know." He sighed and his shoulders drooped, his eyes almost haunted. "I couldn't let go Sanar go either, so I guess we're even." His hand dropped and he shook his head, seeming to push the sentimental moment to the side.   
  
"I came here," he said deliberately, shifting from the mind-set of a lover to that of a Jedi Master, "to warn you." Seeing her open her mouth to speak, he held up a hand, forestalling her words. "There may be no Dark side, Jaina, but that doesn't relieve you of the Sith." He paused for a moment, then continued carefully. "This war has destroyed many lives. Good, honest people have become assassins, murderers. Some of them are not strong enough to face up to consequences and so will find someone to blame. You, as the last of the Jedi, are a rather…easy target."   
  
She groaned and drew her fingers through her hair. "Fine, fine; I'll be careful – are you happy now?"   
  
He pretended to ponder her question for a moment, clearly enjoying her frustration. "Am I happy?" he repeated slowly. His smile unexpectedly took an impish quality. "No; but I can't think of something that_ would _make me happy…"   
  
She blushed, remembering how they had parted. "Durron," she muttered with an amused and mock-exasperated twist to her words.   
  
"Goddess," he returned playfully.   
  
The walls began to morph from clay to a grey substance she could not recognize, and the objects around them, even the bed, disappeared into shadows that began to take their own form as…   
  
He saw her gaze drifting and pulled her close, hoping to distract her from what was happening. His control was slipping; she could not see… "You owe me a kiss," he whispered.   
  
Her eyes lifted to his, a delicate rose staining her face. "Do I? Since when?" Instinctively, her arms wrapped around his neck, something she could not define urging her closer.   
  
His clothes were becoming ragged, she noticed with a frown as her hands moved over the suddenly tattered tunic. They were torn, as if by… But fog crept within her mind as he leaned in to her. They're lips touched and suddenly, even though she _knew_ there was something wrong, even though she _knew_ that if she could keep her head for just a few more moments his concentration would falter and she would see his holding place – what else would the room be morphing into? – she lost herself in his embrace.   
  
The months since the massacre had been hard, as the years of war had been, and she had not realized until she lost him just how much warmth and comfort Kyp had brought her in the short time they had really known each other. Other than Garik, whom she had seen a very few times since she had thrown his friendship in his face in her guilt and sorrow, Kyp had been her only haven, the one person she could run to when she had been about to break. And then, just like that, he had been gone, leaving her with no anchor.   
  
She moaned softly as he pulled her still closer. Why had she fought against this? Why, when it was so right, so safe, had she turned and run?   
  
**//"Jaina, what we have – had – wouldn't have worked; we both know it. It was just a nice, forbidden dream we made up to avoid fully realizing what was going on around us."//**   
  
The memory of his words whispered in her ear, as if he had repeated them aloud. She pulled back in time to see what looked like a cross between a laboratory and a torture room, complete with a twisted figure hunched over a jelled rectangle and bodies scattered about in contraptions she never before seen.   
  
"I'm sorry, my love," Kyp whispered painfully in her ear and then…   
  
Oh, Force, then…   
  
Oh, stars, the blood…   
  
So much blood…   
  
_"Solo?"_   
  
Even as she knew it was not real…   
  
Even as she knew, somewhere deep within herself, that it was not truly happening…   
  
Pain, so much pain…   
  
The last time she had felt this ripping agony…   
  
_**"Jaina! Wake up!"** _  
  
Her very soul shrieking…   
  
She opened her mouth to scream…   
  
_…and woke up.   
  
* * * * 

"What's going on here?"   
  
The human man looked up irritably as Wedge's voice cut into the argument. His annoyance faded as he recognized Jaina's hold-father. "General Antilles," he tipped his head in respect, "I must see Mistress Solo immediately; it is a matter of utmost importance."   
  
Wedge's eyebrows hiked up in surprise. Was his imagination running loose, or was there an underlying current of urgency and fear in the diplomat's voice? This was most certainly not the unflappable, laid-back diplomat he had met a few days ago. "I'm sorry, but only family is permitted to see her at the moment."   
  
Garik's blasé expression remained carefully maintained, but for a moment Wedge thought he saw the beginnings of a scowl form on the young man's face. "I'm the closest thing she has to family," he argued, and for a moment, Wedge could picture just how cocky the diplomat had been as a child. "Kriff, I'm closer to her than I am to my own sister!"   
  
The med-droid made impatient shooing motions. "Only the Antilles may see Mistress Solo, sir." There was a weariness in the droid's voice that implied this phrase had been repeated more than once. "Now if you would please just – "   
  
"No offence, sir," Garik tipped his head respectfully to Wedge but his voice was chilly, "but I believe I have more right to see her than her commanding officer's family."   
  
Wedge felt his own ire rise. "I have been Jaina's hold-father since she was an infant, _Diplomat Klamath_."   
  
"One of many," the diplomat retorted, his frustration getting the better of him. "She is an adult, sir; she can make her own choices." His voice was hard and pointed.   
  
Wedge ignored Garik's first comment. "Not while she's in a coma, she can't."   
  
Garik froze. "I was told," he started very quietly and in a low voice that would hide his emotions, "that she was only sleeping."   
  
"Then you were told too much," the general snapped. He could feel Iella's disapproval at lying to the man but he ignored her. He wasn't sure he trusted the politician; his kind was always twisting things to their advantage. Why, he could count on one hand how many times he had seen Jaina and Garik together and he had known Jaina all her life! He would have noticed if the two were close friends. "If she comes to – "   
  
" 'If'?!" The russet-haired man looked genuinely alarmed.   
  
Unable to watch her husband torture the poor boy further, Iella cut in. "The medics believed her to be in a coma at first, but now they believe it is merely exhaustion. She'll be fine in a day or two." She watched as Garik struggled to keep his relief from being too visible. How could he be here for false reasons? He was far too genuinely concerned about Jaina's welfare to be anything other than a close friend. Vaguely, she wondered why she had never seen the two together before.   
  
"Her room is this way," she added gently, gesturing for Garik to follow her.   
  
Wedge sighed in weary exasperation and watched as the diplomat's shoulders relaxed in relief. His lips twisted unhappily.   
  
He didn't trust politicians.   
  
* * *   
  
Iella left the room after he thanked her and for that he was grateful. He didn't enjoy people watching him when he knew his emotions would burst through and past his shields. It made him nervous to feel their eyes, as if they were preparing to judge him, figure out if he was feeling too much or too little. Seeing Solo in a hospital bed with the word "coma" jumping around in his mind was definitely one of those times.   
  
He crossed the room with more hesitation than was normal for him and, though he berated himself for it, he was unable to quicken his pace. Nevertheless, he reached her side and his eyes found her and his stomach twisted in an uncomfortable knot.   
  
//…_she's in a coma_…//   
  
Kriff it! Why had General Antilles put that thought in his head? As if his imagination and wasn't coming up with its own morbid ideas! A coma – kriff, she looked like she was in one too, with all those machines surrounding her and her skin nearly translucent. He brushed a lock of hair out of her face and sat in the chair next to her bed, watching her intently. In the large hospital bed she looked tiny and vulnerable – two words he rarely connected with his vivacious and reckless childhood playmate. Her eyes were a little puffy, as if she had been crying. His fingers followed imaginary tear-trails almost reverently. Fleetingly, he wished he had thought to bring his sketch pad, but he doubted how he would forget how she looked now for some time – this crystal, shattered princess would haunt his dreams and nightmares alike, no doubt.   
  
Quite suddenly, she jerked under his touch. "You awake?" he queried, reflexively retracting his stroking fingers from her face and drawing up his shields. She whimpered pitifully and he frowned, becoming more concerned. "Solo?" When she did not wake, he shook her shoulder gently but urgently. "Jaina, wake up!"   
  
She made a strangled sound, as if the shriek she was trying to emit had fallen back in her throat, then, suddenly, sat up, her hands flailing protectively in front of her. He caught her wrists (unfortunately, she managed to hit him once before he did so) and held them tightly. "Jaina!"   
  
She froze and he found himself wonder if it was because he had never used his 'senator voce' with her. " 'Rik?" Her voice was unusually small and frightened from behind the curtain of hair that hid her face from view.   
  
His hand moved across her shoulders and he pulled her into a hug. "You certainly know how to scare a guy," he noted in a low voice.   
  
She clung to him as if the years of their separation had never been. "Sorry," she muttered into his shirt. Even as muffled as her voice was, he could hear how tired she was.   
  
"I thought I told you to stay out of trouble," he teased when she pulled back, trying to lighten the mood.   
  
Her eyes widened. "I did!"   
  
"You're in a hospital bed; that suggests you did something that wasn't good for you, which implies you got into trouble."   
  
"It wasn't my fault," she protested moodily, her mouth forming a pout that belonged to a reprimanded child.   
  
He gave her a disbelieving look, something in his eyes suggesting that he had expected this response. "Right."   
  
"I was just meditating."   
  
He sighed, feeling very much like an older brother that had been roped into baby-sitting. "Since when does meditation ever make you nearly comatose? Be honest, Solo."   
  
"Okay, so I was only meditating because some _thing_ nearly cut my head in half until I agreed," she amended.   
  
"Something – the same thing that tried to kill you – ordered you into meditation and you _did what it said_?" he repeated, aghast at her stupidity. "Have you any sense at all?"   
  
"Hey! I wasn't done telling you what happened," she chided him, her pout becoming more prominent.   
  
He gave a mocking half bow. "My apologies – do continue, oh Supremely Idiotic One."   
  
She scowled at him but carried on. "I thought I was being smart by submerging myself into the Force." Her tone abruptly became soft and pensive. "Supposedly, I'm the strongest trained Jedi in the galaxy; kriff, I'm the _only_ Jedi in the galaxy. In meditation, I should have had the upper hand." She shook her head ruefully. "It would figure that the one time I tried to use logic in my decisions, the situation would become illogical."   
  
_Kriff_, he agreed, leaning back in his chair. Had it worked for her she might have seen the good in continuing the practice of common sense and his job might have been a lot easier.   
  
"But when I did…" she trailed off, her voice almost childish in its confused hurt. "It attacked me – but it wasn't that it assaulted me so much as it tried to…to try to control me. It – it tore at my mind, pried in my memories…nothing of me was hidden, nothing was – sacred, _mine_," she stumbled over the words, trying to express something with the small words Basic offered. "It was the most – terrifying thing that ever happened to me – but I couldn't do _anything_. I couldn't move, couldn't fight or erect barriers…all I could do was watch." She quieted, her eyes stricken and haunted.   
  
He waited a moment, wishing he knew if their friendship was still intact enough that he wouldn't be pushed away if he comforted her. Swallowing, he leaned closer to her and took her hand in his, squeezing gently. "What happened?" he prompted.   
  
She stared at their clasped hands as if they held all the answers to all the secrets of the galaxy. "What do you mean? I told you what happened."   
  
"Considering how you appear to be alive and well, albeit in a hospital bed, something must have happened."   
  
"He saved me," she stated, as if it were the most simple and obvious idea in the galaxy.   
  
Garik's mouth twisted a little from an anonymous emotion. "Who did?"   
  
She merely raised her eyes to his, her gaze steadier than he had seen it in years. Her silence was frustrating, but Garik knew he wouldn't be able to get to the root of what had happened anytime soon. She was withdrawing into her own world again, shutting everything and everyone else out.   
  
"Do I need to beat someone up for you?" he teased in an attempt to receive a few more minutes of precious companionship with her.   
  
She blinked and suddenly laughed out loud. "You already did," she assured him, an affectionate, delighted and _real_ smile lighting her features. "Your performance was a bit more glorified than a few punches, but your opponent won't be coming back for more anytime soon."   
  
The sudden brilliance of her smile had made him catch his breath and it took a moment for her words to sink in. When they did, however, a medic entered, saying she needed to check the patient and why hadn't he notified anyone that Jaina was awake, anyway?   
  
He was shooed out of the room before he could even say good-bye. When the door _swished_ closed behind him he shook his head and chuckled. The medics never did change – and neither did his ritual of sneaking back in through the window to spend some more time with his childhood 'Queen'.   
  
While he was waiting, though, perhaps he would be brave – and hungry – enough to try some of the base's rations…

~TJF


	11. The Phoenix

**Jedi from Rohan**: Wow, I'm glad you liked it! I'm blushing, really I am. Which part confused you? Let me know – I'm getting used to explaining this fic ;) What's MTFBWY?

Alright, for everyone who reads this (JfR and anyone who isn't reviewing) – aren't you lucky! I'm uploading two posts this time *gasp* That's what you all get for being so far behind ;P

--- 

Jaina settled back into the pillows, a sigh escaping her as the medic left. Soft light filtered through the window to her left and a warm breeze delicately felt its way into the room. Off in the distance she could hear a bird singing a distinct, strong melody. For a moment, she closed her eyes and let the peace of the moment seep into her, hoping against hope that it would remove the images of her dream that taunted her.   
  
The bird's song echoed and called to something in her and she gave up; Kyp's eyes and the sensation of his lips on hers would not be leaving her soon. Instead, she pushed herself into a sitting position, swung her legs to the floor, and gingerly got to her feet. She had to call on the Force to remain standing, as the muscles in her legs seemed to have disappeared, but she found her way to the window without falling.   
  
The window was only half open, so she leaned against a nearby table and pushed the window until it was pressed against the outside wall. Bracing her arms against the wall for support, she looked out. A large bird with feathers of fiery shades of reds, oranges, and golds stared back at her, black eyes gleaming. Jaina gave a surprised yelp and stumbled backwards in an instinctive reaction to get away from the creature that had been only centimetres from her face.   
  
With a sound that was half coo, half chuckle, the bird soared through the window and floated to the ground, wings half-spread. Jaina stilled as the bird's melody recommenced. The song captivated – part mournful, part joyful, all surprising resilience and strength, and the Jedi barely noticed as the bird moved to her side. When four fire-ice tears dropped on her eyes, Jaina blinked, shaking herself out of her reverie. "Wha…?"   
  
"I said, 'What are you doing on the floor?' " a man's voice said, seemingly bewildered.   
  
The bird was gone; had she dreamed it? Slowly, she turned to the owner of the voice. The first – and perhaps only – thing she noticed was his eyes: large, navy blue orbs that pulled at her memory. Black, thick eyebrows hovered over those familiar eyes in a mixture of concern, annoyance, and curiosity.   
  
Realizing with a jolt who he was, she forced a smile. "I was, uh, meditating," she replied quickly, wondering if perhaps it was true.   
  
He hesitated a brief moment, then walked to where she was sitting haphazardly and gave her a hand up. Those blue eyes regarded her cautiously and his body was tense, as if he was ready to dart away at any moment. "The bed would be more comfortable," he stated, his gaze moving up and down her rumpled med-bay-issued pyjamas; sizing her up or admiring her, she wasn't sure. Perhaps it was a mixture of both.   
  
"The praxeum's meditation room floor was made of clay," she explained, pitching her voice low so he wouldn't pick up on the way her voice trembled. "I'm used to being able to feel the planet's vibrations, however vaguely." She stared down at the bed. His hand dropped from her arm as soon as he decided she could stand without his support. She felt the loss keenly, but didn't look at him or protest. "I can meditate on softer surfaces," she continued, "but it's not the same."   
  
His gaze was steady. "Is that what you Jedi have been doing throughout the war? _Meditating_?" The question was not quite accusatory, but it was hard, nonetheless.   
  
She laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. "Some were, but most were on the front lines from the first hints of trouble."   
  
"That would explain Ithor, Coruscant, Lin-Ta…"   
  
Her voice became sharp with rebuke. "Corran Horn fought for – and won – Ithor, but the 'Vong went back on their word. Coruscant was everyone's fault; you can't blame the Jedi alone for its fall."   
  
"And Lin-Ta?" he demanded harshly, pulling away from her. "Where were the Jedi then?"   
  
Words failed her momentarily; her breath caught. "The only warning," she said finally, slowly, "was the pain of feeling a world die; an ache so sharp that many Jedi were confined to the med-bay and in varying degrees of unconsciousness. Before anyone could even scream, it was over."   
  
He turned away from her and she knew that any further attempt today would be a lost cause. He was closed to her. "I don't believe you," he grated out, fists clenching spastically as he paced from side to side.   
  
She folded her arms. "Fine. Don't. But you can't keep running away from reality. The Jedi weren't perfect; they couldn't save everyone – that's not to say they didn't try, of course."   
  
He didn't seem prepared to let it go and it occurred to her that perhaps all the resentment focused on the Jedi was really squashed illusions of Jedi invulnerability. "The Jedi defeated the Empire – "   
  
"No, the Rebel Alliance defeated the Empire. But why bring the Empire into this? You can't compare it to the 'Vong – the two are entirely different."   
  
"They both took over the Republic."   
  
She laughed bitterly. "You've obviously never met a real 'Vong." She sighed. "The Empire already had control of the galaxy when the Rebel Alliance began to take control back. But even more, the Empire was – is – at least half-way humane. The 'Vong are radicals and bloodthirsty and they don't try to hide it."   
  
"You don't have to tell me that – I saw their work myself."   
  
Jaina paused. "You went to Lin-Ta?" she asked quietly.   
  
His shoulder tensed and soul-imprints hit Jaina through the Force like whips. She barely had time to feel her soul cry out before he answered. "As soon as I heard about the attack." There was a long stretch of silence before he continued. "There were corpses everywhere," he said, his voice cracking. "Bodies burning – what was left of them, that is. My sister…" He took a shuddering breath. "My family and friends were strewn about the street like slaughtered animals."   
  
She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked down. "I'm sorry," she whispered.   
  
"Why?" he asked bitterly, turning back to her. "Did I ruin the image of your Knighting ceremony?"   
  
Her temper flared up reflexively, but she pushed it back down. She had seen holos from Lin-Ta's wreckage; she had watched holo-net series on it; she had felt the voices of the people of Lin-Ta in her mind. She could not, on good conscience, lash out at one of its survivors while he was so clearly vulnerable, even if he did blame the Jedi for it.   
  
Tiran studied her for a long moment, his face a mask of torment. Under his pain she could feel a struggle in him, but she couldn't feel the origins of it. Before she could search further, he was gone.   
  
~*~*~

~TJF


	12. Stronger

**Author's Note**: It occurred to me that, seeing as Sanar's an OC, I should really give those that don't know her a little background info… Sanar Klis was introduced in my fic "Return of the Jedi" (no, I haven't posted it here yet, so don't bother checking). She comes from the planet Na'Lein'yhpaon, which takes male domination to the extreme. She managed to escape living under the bigotry for the first part of her life, but when her father died, Sanar's family was brought into one of the main cities. She's Force sensitive, but was only trained, for a short time, by Kyp Durron who, coincidentally, was the one who "murdered" her father by way of Carida. If you want more background on Kyp and Sanar's relationship, trying reading my vignette Out of Bounds (on JC).

**Disclaimer**: of course the song doesn't belong to me. Look at the bottom of the lyrics for title/singer.

------

_This is the window to my heart   
I just want you to be free   
There ain't no freedom where we are   
Ain't no wishes in these stars   
Ain't no reason to believe   
But don't worry baby, don't you worry   
Maybe this is what we need   
A little bruising, a little bleeding   
Some space that we can breathe in   
Some silence in between   
So cry for me baby and I'll cry for you   
And we'll both break down and we'll both break through   
We'll find our way and we'll face the truth   
And we both will be stronger   
And we'll lie down in our loneliness   
And wake up with our sad regrets   
And even though we don't know it yet   
We both will be stronger   
We both will be stronger_   
~**_Stronger_**, by Faith Hill   
  
  
  


  
"You got any chocolate?" Jaina asked hopefully, trying to see into the bag Garik had brought when he visited her the next day.   
  
He pulled it away playfully. "Sorry, they only had these lumpy, brown vegetables. I got them half price."   
  
She scowled at him; her hand darted out and snatched the bag from his grip. It took only a moment for her to find the package of chocolate balls that he had bought. Quickly, she popped one into her mouth, lying back on the bed like a sunbathing tarai-lyon.   
  
Garik watched her with a mixture of amusement and fondness. It was nice to know that her favourite treat had not changed. It had been a long time since he had last snuck her something not on the med-ward's 'acceptable food' list. Too long. "Try to save some of them, Solo. If you eat them slowly, they should last you your entire incarceration here."   
  
She gave him a sweet smile, which told him exactly what she thought of not indulging in them all at once, took another chocolate ball, and held the bag out for him to take one. He declined. "How'd you find these, anyway?" she mumbled around the rich, milky chocolate. "I mean, you must have looked for _hours_. I doubt that keeping a quality chocolate factory up-and-running would be a priority during this war."   
  
"It didn't take that long," he lied. "I know some people; besides, the war's almost over. A lot of things are starting up again that have been just a dream for the past five years. The Senate will be squabbling over marketing and power issues before you know it, and you'll have to find a second job. With any luck, we won't be needing as many fighter pilots."   
  
Her brow furrowed. "I guess so." She paused for a long moment, then, in an almost-whisper, "They should have been here. The Jedi – everyone – fought for so long…lost so much…and they were wiped out a few months before the war's end." She made a small, choked sound, and swallowed the chocolate ball, a product of a day of searching, comm-ing, pleading and bargaining.   
  
"But now…they're never going to see the galaxy right itself again…never going to wrap their arms around a loved one…never feel the rain whisper across their skin…never – eat chocolate…" She stared at the bag; her thick hair – allowed to grow out once more, now that she spent less time in the cockpit – hid her eyes from him.   
  
Whatever he had expected the gift to inspire, it had not been that vulnerable, confused confession of what was swirling around in her mind. For a moment, the evidence of her returned trust robbed him of speech. A rush of tenderness flooded his senses and he reached out to brush away her hair. "Jaina…"   
  
Her shining eyes met his for a moment, then she dropped the bag and threw her arms around him, burying her head in his shoulder. He was barely aware of the unpleasant scratch of Jaina's hospital gown on his skin as her tears spilled out in a flood. For a moment, Garik thought he saw a dark-haired man peek into the room, but when the diplomat looked back up again, there was no one there.   
  
Garik was not sure how long he held Jaina, rocking her gently and murmuring comforting words, letting her release all the tears she had held back. He had no doubt they had been held back for too long – perhaps even six years. When she finally quieted, completely spent, and pulled back, her hair was mussed and her eyes bleary and red. "Thanks," she whispered, wiping her eyes. "I needed to get that out."   
  
"Hey, that's what I'm here for."   
  
She smiled a little at that. "Always there," she said softly. "What would I do without you, 'Rik?"   
  
He forced a dry chuckle. "Keep this up and I'll be the leaky bucket."   
  
She crawled back into her bed and pulled the covers up, then turned on her side so that she was looking up at him. Her eyes blinked a little drowsily as she watched him. "Do you believe dreams mean anything?" she asked finally.   
  
"Depends on the dream."   
  
"What if you dreamed that your supposedly dead, could-have-been lover visited you from some mad scientist's lab to tell you that he's alive and, oh, by the way, some psycho thinks you're its master is was willing to do anything to possess you?"   
  
Garik blinked. "Um – " he hadn't said 'um' since he was eleven and Molay Diress had made a fist and asked him if he would like to kiss her – "who was the 'supposedly dead, could-have-been lover'?"   
  
She smirked and he had the feeling she was regretting the loss of a holo to capture his reaction. "Kyp."   
  
His eyes bulged. "Kyp _Durron_?"   
  
Her eyes closed and her brow crinkled. "Do you know any other Kyp?" she asked sarcastically.   
  
"I – I thought he was still hung up on Sanar," he stuttered.   
  
"He was – but that's not the point. Do you think it could mean anything?"   
  
"The dream? Oh, kriff, don't ask me this, Solo…" But her still-red eyes begged for his answer and he sighed. "I don't know…Kyp was – is? – a Jedi and a powerful one at that. If he loved you at all, he would have tried to warn you." He shrugged uneasily. "If anyone could make it work, it'd be him, I guess."   
  
She looked thoughtful. "Sanar could probably do that sort of thing – she was really good with the more obscure branches of Force mastery – so maybe she taught him? But then again, it could have just been a figment of my subconscious. I _have_ been thinking about him more, lately…"   
  
He shook his head slowly, still a little stunned by the idea of Kyp and Jaina being (potential) lovers. _Last I heard, she didn't even _like_ him…_ "Well, you'll take it seriously either way, I hope. Even if there was no real meaning to the dream, you should be keeping your guard up."   
  
She chuckled. "You haven't changed a bit since we were kids, you know? Still as over-protective as a mother Ewok."   
  
"As if you're not enough to make a dodo bird paranoid," he said wryly.   
  
"Up shut, you," she retorted, burying her head in the starched pillow.   
  
He mock sighed. "The brutal truth is never taken gracefully."   
  
Without looking up, she swatted him. "Why are you so mean to me?" she mumbled   
  
He reached out to tickle her for that remark, but the weary way she shifted in the bed made him rethink that action. "Are you tired?" He didn't give her time to deny it. "I should be going anyway," he said, standing.   
  
She didn't move.   
  
He frowned. "Solo?"   
  
Several seconds passed, then she shuddered and let out a quick sigh, as if she had been holding her breath. "Pardon?"   
  
If Jaina Solo was slipping into the manners Princess Leia had taught her, there was definitely something wrong. "Are you alright?"   
  
She moved onto her back and shifted up the bed so that she was slanted against the wall. She forced a smile. "Fine. I just felt a little – weird – for a moment."   
  
He hesitated; if she was still unwell, perhaps he shouldn't leave. After all, last time…   
  
"Oh stop worrying," she said a little peevishly. "I'm just a little tired. You may as well head back to Coruscant."   
  
Slowly, he zippered his jacket, still indecisive. "Are you sure? I can stay if you want."   
  
"I'm _fine_, Garik," she snapped. "Just go. _Honestly,_ you're such a worry wart."   
  
He stiffened and tipped his head shortly. "Milady."   
  
He turned to leave but stopped when she caught his hand. "Wait! I'm sorry…I – someone – there was a ripple in the Force – a dark one – for a moment; I didn't have my shielding up all the way. This kind of thing always makes me cranky."   
  
He wavered and she continued, attempting to lighten the tension. "I don't suppose you could get some more hours off next time, though? Maybe take a week off." Her grip tightened on his hand. "It's kinda lonely around here."   
  
He rolled his eyes. "I need to switch my 'push-me' buttons," he said dryly, turning back to her.   
  
She batted her eyelashes, but her smile was crooked. "Why would you want to do something like that?" She made a disappointed sound. "Do you really have to go?"   
  
"Actually, I'm not really supposed to be here," he admitted sheepishly. "I kinda left in the middle of a Senate meeting recess."   
  
She brightened and her lips curved in a wicked grin. "Garik Klamath, rule-enforcer extraordinaire, skipped a Senate meeting? Tut-tut – I think I'm rubbing off on you." Even as tired as she obviously was, the idea seemed to make her positively gleeful.   
  
"Don't get used to it," he muttered, ruffling her hair a little with his hand.   
  
She scrunched her nose at him. "Stop it; I'm not a little kid anymore."   
  
He gave her a peculiar look. "I know that."   
  
She looked up at him, hearing a resonance in his voice that she couldn't identify. But then he smirked, the same Garik she had known since childhood. He kissed her on the forehead quickly, asked her to stay safe one last time, and left, arms swinging as he walked.   
  
She pulled the blanket up to her chin and curled on her side, a small smile forming on her lips. _Still the same old Garik._

~*~*~

It took the med-unit - and Wedge - a week to realize that Jaina was okay to go, and the (im-)patient did not waste any time upon being let out. Despite her computer clumsiness, she convinced Wedge to let her into the military personnel database, in hopes of finding Tiran Lee-droy, the guy the Force had (cruelly) picked to be her apprentice.   
  
_Sometimes, being a Jedi really sucks,_ she grumbled without any real malice or self-pity.   
  
It took the better part of a week (between drills, her renewed Jedi "training" and searches through the Force) to find Tiran. Other than the man's name and that of his home planet, Jaina had no information that could aid her. Apparently, "Tiran Lee-droy" was a common name. Although she had supposed that, in a galaxy with trillions of billions of beings, even her name - or that of Hobbie, or Wes - was used for others, the sight of a screen filled with almost a hundred "Tiran Lee-droy's" (or variants thereof) filled her with amazement. Not all had possessed photos, but those that did were quickly crossed off, as had the physical descriptions that didn't match that of Tiran (er…the one she was looking for, that was).   
  
Finally, she had found the profile she wanted: Tiran Lee-droy, GFFA military mechanic, native of Lin-Ta. With her lightsaber clipped to her belt, Jaina set off to find the "stubborn, son-of-a-sith" the Force had decided she would train. _Maybe_, she mused darkly, _I should make up my will…and Wedge would need to be filled in on the rites of a Jedi funeral, of course._   
  
Despite her cynical expectations, the Solo daughter pushed onto the docking bay, where she hoped to find "her" apprentice. "Is Tiran here?" she asked one of the mechanics.   
  
The olive-skinned woman pointed to the far side of the docking bay. "He's on his lunch break."   
  
"Thanks." Jaina turned, aware that the mechanic had spotted her lightsaber, and was probably wondering what Tiran had done to make a Jedi come after him. The reaction was the same in each mechanic that she passed, but, after so many years, the Jedi was used to the attention a lightsaber could attract.   
  
When Tiran saw Jaina marching towards him purposefully, he seriously considered making a run for it, but she grabbed him by the arm before he could move. "We need to talk," she muttered, dragging him to an unoccupied corner. "Don't bother struggling - it won't help, and you'll only attract unwanted attention."   
  
Upon attaining a safe distance from the others, Tiran jerked out of her hold and crossed his arms argumentatively. "This is my lunch break; you'd better hurry up, Princess."   
  
"It won't take long," she muttered, resting her hands on her hips in frustration. Already she could feel her temper rise, and she hadn't even gotten out her unfortunate news. _Won't this be a fun partnership,_ she thought with a scowl. "You're Force-sensitive," she said point-black, not sure how else to put it.   
  
Tiran's bulged and he literally choked. _Perhaps,_ she mused a little evilly, _he would have appreciated a little more diplomacy._ "WHAT?" he finally demanded, his face become greyish.   
  
She sighed and drew a hand through her hair. "Your midi-chlorian count is higher than average; you're too powerful - too attractive to the 'Vong, Peace Brigade, etcetera - for your own good; the Force is battering me like mad, telling me you need to be trained. Take your pick - any of them will do."   
  
He took a step back. "But I can't be a Jedi," he protested stupidly. "I hate Jedi."   
  
_He talks about being a Jedi like it's a disease,_ Jaina thought, somewhat more than mildly offended. "Tell that to the 'Vong when they need a Jedi sacrifice," she sneered. "I'm sure they'll let you just walk right out of there - and the Peace Brigade will be able to tell the difference between you and me, or any of my dead Jedi comrades. Get a life, Lee-droy - or, better yet, get a brain. The galaxy doesn't care what you want; at this point, all they'll see is the way you get lucky at cards, or the way you just _know_ where that missing part is - or how a tool just magically _lifts_ off of the floor when you need it."   
  
Seeing Tiran's stricken expression, she softened momentarily. It was quite likely that Tiran had noticed such occurrences, but eventually shrugged them off. It would be difficult to convince him. "It's tough, I know; but, practically speaking, it's the best thing for you. I'm certainly not going to have this grand advantage by training you - it's for you alone. The war's ending, sure, but unless every single 'Vong leaves or dies, and all the Jedi prejudice just disappears, Force-sensitives are going to need to defend themselves. The best way to do that is by being trained in an art that no one other than a Jedi - or a Sith, of course, but let's not get into that - can fully copy."   
  
The conflict was there, on his face, for all the galaxy to see, but he wasn't aware of it. When she gently probed his mind with the Force, she felt echoes of pain - memories. "You're not dishonouring Lin-Ta if you accept," she murmured, reaching out to touch his shoulder   
  
"Get out of my head!" he barked, backing away.   
  
_So it's back to the tough guy routine._ She levelled her eyes on his. "Make me," she retorted. "Learn how to shield."   
  
He stared at her, panic beginning to find purchase on his face. Then, to Jaina's surprise, Tiran turned and fled.   
  
~*~*~

~TJF


	13. A Jedi, Whether You Like It or Not

**Kazzy** – thanks! Yeah, er, it's _Kyp_ that Jaina's most distraught over….*shifty eyes*

**Jedi from Rohan** – hm…okay, when I rewrite this I'll try to make it less all over the place. Lol, yeah, confusing stories are everywhere…maybe I read too many of them and they spilled into my writing… *shrugs* any predictions for this fic?

**Ameri** - *blushes* thank you! I'm not a huge fan of Kyp/Jaina either, actually…I'm almost inanely J/Z, but K/J suits my *cough* purposes in D.A.D, whereas J/Z doesn't work…in this one…for reasons I can't yet say :P Zekk wasn't mentioned because…well, Jaina doesn't want to talk about him. That'll be explained later, though; I promise he has a part in this melodrama ;) 'Does Garik have a thing for Jaina'…well: not to his knowledge, not yet, no—take your pick of answers.  There isn't a romance (other than the mentions of K/J) in this fic, there's more in the second one…and not really any in the third fic of this trilogy. This series is kind of my 'challenge' one, where I try to avoid the things I do in other fics – like write in a dozen romances :P But CoD (the companion trilogy to Phoenix) is another story.

___________________________

**{Two Weeks Later}**   
  
  
Tiran cursed as the tool slipped, and a painful gash appeared on his arm. Blood spurted, and he groaned, stepping out of the ship's shadow and into the light.   
  
"Looks painful," a familiar voice remarked. "But it's not that bad."  
  
The mechanic scowled at Solo.  "Stalking me, are you, Princess? How many times do I have to dodge you in the halls before you get it?"  
  
He had to hand it to her - the princess was keeping her Jedi control better than before. He could only see the angry glint in her eyes if he really looked. "So you _did_ see me," she remarked through clenched teeth. "You know, generally, it's considered rude to walk away when you know someone wants to talk to you, but I'll excuse it this once."   
  
"How magnanimous of you," he retorted sarcastically. "Why can't you just leave me alone? This is all your fault."   
  
Apparently she understood what he meant by "this", because she hissed. "Oh, yes, Tiran, I've fallen so deeply in love with your ever-so-charming arrogance and bigotry that I manipulated your midi-chlorian count. In fact, I even gave you a percentage of my own so that you'd be extra Force sensitive, and I would have the pleasure of training you."   
  
He glared; she rolled her eyes. "I don't want to be trained, so get lost," he snapped in exasperation. "Don't you have a late, murdering Jedi lover that you need to mourn?"   
  
Her hand came up instinctively, and brought it down only with obvious effort. Her reply, however, made him long for the slap. "Don't you have a family to mope about? I'm sure they'd love to see the hateful, bitter person you've become - oh, and they'd adore the shrine you've built for them."   
  
Tiran turned away to hide a grimace. "You don't know anything."   
  
"Oh, please!" she retorted in exasperation. "I lost my family, friends - even a lover - and it wasn't all that unlike from what happened on Lin-Ta. The difference is that my family tends to be in the middle of all the struggles; you probably didn't even change jobs for the first two years of the war. Of course I understand; maybe - " She stopped, surprise evident on her face.   
  
"What?" he asked gruffly, despite himself.   
  
"Maybe that's why _I_ was chosen to train you," she finished quietly, her forehead crinkling.   
  
Tiran searched for something to distract himself, and found it. His wound was still trickling blood, and he looked for something to wrap it in. Jaina, remembering his abrasion, shook the cobwebs out of her head and reached out. "Here - I can heal it."   
  
The Lin-Ta native pulled his arm away, but she gripped it firmly, and placed two fingers on it. For a moment, the scrape burned, and Tiran panicked, pulling it back viciously. She let him go, but when he looked for the sheen of a burn, he found only new, pink flesh.   
  
"Force healing," Jaina said dryly. "It would have hurt less if you'd relaxed, and trusted me. Isn't that so like life?"   
  
He scowled, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the smooth flesh that had - just moments ago - been torn and leaking scarlet.   
  
"I've managed to convince my guardian that I'm not going to commit suicide," Jaina started, "so I'm moving back into my own rooms today. If you're interested in training as a Jedi, or if you ever see how stupid it is for you to not be trained…"   
  
"I'm not promising anything," he muttered, finally looking at her.   
  
She rolled her eyes in frustration, but continued. "What if we just met for…I don't know…dinner or something. I promise not to brainwash you - completely - if you promise to be a good boy, and not run away before I've finished."   
  
"Just an explanation?" he demanded. She nodded, exasperated. His mouth twisted, as if the idea caused him physical pain, but he managed to reply. "Fine. Where?"   
  
She smirked, enjoying his irritation. Unfortunately for her, it would be one of the last times she'd be able to distance herself from it, thanks to Master-Apprentice bonds. "Room 23 953 - on the West side. Say…Nineteen-hundred-hours?"   
  
He blinked, confused. "When?"   
  
She groaned. _Oh, we'll just get along like two peas in a pod, you and I…_ "That's seven o'clock PM, civvie."   
  
He flushed. "Well why don't you just use normal vocab?"   
  
She scoffed. "This is a military base, doofus; it _is_ 'normal vocab'. Look, just be there, okay? 23 953, on the West side. If you get confused, just contact Wedge."   
  
By the time he realized that she meant _General Antilles_, the princess was already gone.   
  
~*~*~   
  
Jaina was surprised when Tiran showed up on time; saying he would was one thing - doing it suggested that he actually possessed some manners, despite his attitude. "I just have to bring out the food," she muttered as politely as she could.   
  
He looked no more pleased with the forced cordiality that she. "I'm only here to talk - no Jedi lessons," he reminded her impatiently.   
  
Jaina sent him a sharp glance, but decided he wasn't being mean. "Agreed. I'll be right back."   
  
_Unfortunately_, both added silently.   
  
~*~*~   
  
In his gloomy rooms, the Dark man suddenly shot up in bed, his eyes wide - then increasingly red with fury. "What is _he_ doing there?" he whined. "Master, why did you let him in? Is he going to takes you, Master?"   
  
He shuddered and rocked - just like the world around him - as his insanity rushed forth. "Won't let him takes you, Master…don't worry, Master…"   
  
~*~*~   
  
"I can't believe you have a _kitchen_," Tiran said, unable to hide his disgust.   
  
In the other room, Jaina rolled her eyes. "Wedge seems to be blaming himself for the Eclipse Massacre. This, apparently, is his way of making up."   
  
"I lost a planet, and _I_ don't have a suite," he retorted.   
  
In her exasperation, Jaina bashed the empty pot against the stove a little harder than she needed to. "Then why don't you go ask him for one?" she asked sarcastically. "There are quite a few extra rooms now, since the war's ending. People are going home - those that still have a home, that is," she added quietly.   
  
Tiran muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "spoiled rotten princess."   
  
~*~*~   
  
The Dark man's teeth gnashed, and his fingernails dug into the wood of his bed. "Stupid bad man…taking what's mine…_mine_! No," he muttered, eyes glinting malevolently. "_My_ master, and I won't let you take her!"   
  
~*~*~   
  
Tiran was just letting himself admit that the smells coming from Solo's kitchen weren't actually that bad when _It_ hit him.   
  
His heart exploded in pain, and an invisible hand squeezed his lungs. He gasped, but only shuddered out of his seat, and crumpled to the floor. When he tried to call for aid - or even make a noise to catch Solo's attention - the torment grew worse, until he was writhing on the floor, his face twisted in agony.   
  
Around him, objects zoomed and narrowly missed his head. He would have sworn that the floor moved beneath him. The curtains from the far side of the room broke off their rod, and flew across the room, trying to strangle him. Boxes that were lined against the wall began to move toward him in a whirlwind, knocking against him with the snapping pain of a whip.   
  
All did so silently.   
  
In his mind, he could hear insults, threats, and constant repetitions of _"bad man thief!"_ Weak spots were exposed and taunted; memories were played over and over and over again…   
  
"I'd say that I hope you like wampa meat, but I don't really care," Solo called from the kitchen, apparently oblivious to what was going on. "It's going to take a few more minutes though."   
  
Was it just him, or did Solo sound…suspicious? Immediately, Tiran shut down the thought, trying to keep it away from…It. If there was even a chance…Solo was a Jedi, maybe she…he wasn't going to let _It_ be distracted, even if it killed him.   
  
_C'mon Solo, please -   
  
For once, I won't make a crack if you just…   
  
Please - help…!   
  
Jaina…_   
  
~*~*~   
  
Had the situation been different, Jaina would have assumed that a Sith had just busted into her room and was performing some dastardly evil ritual.   
  
As it was, she sprinkled extra pepper and hot spices into Tiran's dish, then fine-tuned her Force perception. "I'd say that I hope you like wampa meat, but I don't really care," she called out, forcing her voice to stay normal. "It's going to take a few more minutes though."   
  
Faintly, she felt a _smirk_ through the Force. Growling softly, she gripped her lightsaber tightly, then crept to the kitchen door. Behind her, she made the pots continue to rattle on their own. It divided her attention, but the evil was a necessary one, if there was an attacker.   
  
_Lee-droy, if this is some immature attempt to annoy me beyond belief, I_ will _throw the Jedi code out the window, and take up my aunt's creed!_ she vowed silently.   
  
When she rounded the corner, she began to thumb her lightsaber before the reality of the scene hit her.   
  
There was no one there.   
  
Tiran was having a seizure on the floor, and objects were flying around, but otherwise everything was perfectly normal in that the room was empty. After all, Tiran was inexperienced at controlling the Force. Something might have triggered an outburst. Except…   
  
Jaina shivered and pulled her shielding around as closely as possible, trying to evade the ice of hatred that the scene was drowning in. However, when she poked Tiran with the Force, she felt only true struggle and fear. Someone was doing this to him - but why?   
  
_It doesn't matter, Solo; just help Tiran. You can get answers later!_   
  
She clipped her lightsaber back onto her belt, letting the pans drop behind her. Cautiously, she approached the Lin-Ta native. Deciding the conflict was an inward one, she sat down nearby and grabbed his flailing hand tightly. Her mind probed his, searching for conscious thought - something to grab onto.   
  
She found very little, so continued on, not about to deprive Tiran of his defences. The Sword of the Jedi pushed on and found something even better - a sinister, ice cold noose, cutting into Tiran's very life force. Shuddering at the evil, Jaina nonetheless plunged in…down…far down, diving into noose's origin.   
  
Barely pausing, she moulded her energy into a sword as she cut against the Dark persona's outreach. The Darkness was surprised - uncertain - lost - and she refused to think on it. The distraction proved to her advantage as - _fwet_ - the destructive whip of Dark energy was cut and sent hurtling back into itself for harbour.   
  
Disoriented, Jaina herself was sent flying backward, and her body struck the wall with a painful _thwack_, knocking the wind out of her. Two metres away, she could hear Tiran gasping from breath, almost shrieking in his desperation.   
  
"Take - big breaths," Jaina forced out, wiping away the blood that trickled from her mouth. "A Dark attack isn't easy to get over."   
  
She could tell he was trying, but Tiran's panic led him to hyperventilate, and he was losing air again. "Lee-droy, you're going to pass out if you don't just breathe!" she snapped, taking advantage of the Force's surrounding energy to crawl over to her apprentice.   
  
His eyes rolled over to hers as he shuddered. "I - I can't…"   
  
In a flash of comprehension, she used the Force to knock Tiran out. His subconscious had to take over. Sure enough, his breathing soon slowed and became deeper.   
  
After a few moments, she had regained her strength and managed to drag Tiran onto the couch. "Well," she murmured to the sleeping man, "it looks like you don't have much of a choice on the Jedi thing."   
  
~*~*~

Tiran was in a foul mood when he woke, but Jaina was quick to demand what had he expected, after being possessed by a Dark Jedi? Being too grumpy to admit that he wasn't familiar with the term "Dark Jedi", the mechanic spent the better part of an hour stewing over what had happened.   
  
Finally, his temper began to cool, and his energy drained until he didn't protest when Jaina brought out some re-heated food. "So, you going to ask for an explanation yet?" the Jedi queried bluntly. "I can give you the 'Force for Dummies' version."   
  
_Maybe learning telekinesis wouldn't be such a bad thing,_ Tiran thought, noticing that no throw-able items were nearby.   
  
His silent glare must have spoken for him, because she sat down on the opposite chair, taking a sip from her mug before explaining. "I suppose I should apologize for not warning you about the more…personal battles that can be fought, within a Force adept," she began, appearing sincere. "I'll try to keep this easy to understand, and stay in the pre-Vergere explanation area." She smirked. "I think only Jacen had time to fully understand that, anyway.   
  
"The ability to tap into the Force is a powerful one, and with that comes great responsibility. We are not ordinary people; nine out of ten times we can come out of one-on-one combat victorious. That can be used for the galaxy's good, or personal profit – or evil."   
  
She paused, considering something, and then continued. "Before some grey revelations about the Force from an annoying bird-like alien called Vergere, the Force was seen as possessing two sides: the Dark side – Sith or Dark Jedi – and the Light side – Jedi, of course. Fear, anger, hatred and untamed passion lead to the Dark side, whereas serenity, justice, the desire to do good and compassion are of the Light side. The Dark side is of course the easiest path, but the most destructive, not only to the galaxy, but to the soul."   
  
Jaina's eyes darkened, and she shifted uncomfortably. "I can attest that from personal experience," she admitted. Seeing Tiran open his mouth, she continued. "I only tell you that because I want you to see right off that the Jedi do the best they can, but the battle with imperfection is never over. This war has shoved the Jedi either on or off a pedestal – there's no middle ground. Too many people put all their faith in us," Jaina said, her voice sad. "I suppose it was inevitable that it all came crashing down beyond any real hope of forgiveness."   
  
She shook her head, coming out of her reflection with impatience. "Anyway, Force adepts that are not taught – or have only just begun their training – are more vulnerable to attacks from other Force users. You've heard of Kyp Durron, of course."   
  
"Another of the Jedi's failures," Tiran muttered without real animosity. Jaina's explanation of something he had been fascinated with since childhood was like a drug; either that, or there was a reason the meat tasted so…er…different.   
  
Jaina ignored his mumblings. "He's basically the best example of the possession thing as you're going to get. Kyp was too powerful for his inexperience and cockiness. He might have gotten away with it, but Yavin IV had some…interesting history, and the spirit of a Sith lord was able to possess Kyp."   
  
"That's bantha dung," Tiran protested.   
  
"Maybe," she replied, shrugging, "but it's true; you should know that as well as anyone."   
  
"In case you hadn't noticed, I haven't destroyed any planets," Tiran growled.   
  
"No, but just a few hours ago you were writhing on the floor, trying to kill yourself." She bit her lip. "Look, I've received some information that there is a…creature that has been monitoring me, for lack of better word."   
  
"What does this have to do with me?" Tiran growled.   
  
"It _shouldn't_ have anything to do with you," she retorted, frustrated. "But this guy's weird." She hesitated, her cheeks tingeing pink. "I think he attacked because he knew I planned to train you – if you agreed, of course, Your Majesty," she added sarcastically, annoyed by his continuing attempts to state his prejudiced opinion.   
  
"Well, aren't you such a coveted Jedi Master?" he mocked despite her words. "So why don't you train him, then?"   
  
She leaned back in her seat, feet moving impatiently before they swung up onto the empty space on the couch. "You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you? I have no desire to train the next Palpatine; if anything, I have a duty to destroy him." She missed a beat with a frown. "Or her."   
  
" 'Her'?" he queried, blinking.   
  
"I think it's a male, though," Jaina argued, apparently with herself. She heaved a sigh. "Well, I suppose it's all the same on my conscience."   
  
He stared at her. "Do you always have arguments with yourself?" he asked uncertainly.   
  
She raised an eyebrow and gave him a look. "Normally, my reply would a wisecrack, but I suppose you've had a bad enough day. So…doesn't everyone? Carry conversations with themselves, I mean." She smirked knowingly at him.   
  
His eyes bugged. _How'd she know?!?_ "Well, it's pretty insane," he said, flustered.   
  
Her eyes gleamed like those of an animal that had just caught its prey. "Indeed," she murmured.   
  
He flailed, but found a subject that he hoped would distract her. "What was, uh, Vargear's theory? About the Force."   
  
Jaina smiled evilly. "It's 'Vergere'," she intoned.   
  
Why, he wondered, did that sound so ominous?

~TJF


	14. Civil Conversation & Tumultuous Training

**Jedi from Rohan**: lol, thank you! The plots in this series are definitely close to my heart, so I'm glad they've caught your attention J Alright, then, keep your spoilers! ;) But let me know if any come true :D I always drive other people insane, because I'm always guessing what's going on. Tiran and the Dark Man, eh? Well, I'm all the more interested, then.

It's not that I don't like Vergere, it's just that…she made everything so much more complicated for the Jedi. And I kind of liked the Light vs. Dark. So…yeah. Just seemed like extra philosophizing to bring her into the NJO shrugs

Thanks! :D

**Ameri**: Hmm…I should start posting my big J/Z series over here. Maybe when I rewrite it.

Thanks! Yeah, I wanted to keep things somewhat original; fortunately, a rather large plot bunny attacked me, and I was able to accommodate this villain ; The Spirits show up in this chapter! Don't worry, they're not going anywhere :)

-----

**Chapter Fourteen: Civil Conversation, and Tumultuous Training**

_  
(Three Weeks Later)_  
  
There was a rock under his butt, and it was very, _very_ uncomfortable. Tiran shifted, but froze when Jaina glared at him. "I'm meditating!" he assured her defensively.   
  
Her lips quivered with restrained laughter. "Are you really?" she asked innocently.   
  
"Yes," the mechanic retorted defiantly.   
  
"I see…and just how are you managing that?"   
  
Tiran cast his eyes to the ground, hoping a reply would come to him. "By…connecting my, uh, soul and mind?"   
  
Laughter bubbled past her lips, and she knew better than to try to stem their onslaught. The situation wasn't truly hilarious, but she hadn't laughed in a lifetime, it seemed, and to see her arrogant, temperamental apprentice flounder like this was enough of an excuse.   
  
Knowing full well that Tiran was staring at her as if she had taken leave of her senses, Jaina finally reined herself in. "You've never meditated before, have you, Lee-droy?"   
  
His face flushed in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "My sis… I knew people who meditated," he replied defiantly. "It can't be that hard."   
  
Jaina had a feeling her next words would be taken as snobbery, but it might be good for her to pop Tiran's ego. It was her right as a Master, after all. Besides, if he couldn't take it, he shouldn't dish it out. "Jedi meditation is galaxies apart from anything your sister would have tried," she stated. "A normal person calms themselves, then sinks within; a Jedi reaches out and joins the very stars themselves."   
  
He glared at her rebelliously, eliciting a sigh from the young master.   
  
"You remember how I taught you those breathing exercises?"   
  
He nodded, and she copied the movement, pleased. "Good. I need you to put those to work; they're your base. If you find your centre, you'll reach the comfort the Force gives you, and nothing will take it from you." She paused, then smirked apologetically. "Well, as long as ysalamiri aren't around."   
  
He went to ask her what "ysalamiri" were, but she shook her head. "Some other time, oh Impatient One. Now, steady your breathing." He could feel her gaze on him as his eyes drifted closed. It was unsettling, and the urge to make a wisecrack about _ummmm_-ing priests and twisted legs was almost unbearable.   
  
"Don't even think of it," she snapped, her voice infused with Something Else – that was, some Mystery or magical power that she hadn't explained yet. "Match your breathing – in, out, in – to your heartbeat."   
  
_When did the Princess get all priest-y and mystical?_ Tiran mused somewhat grouchily before obeying her. Exasperated amusement floated just out of his reach, and he started.   
  
"Not bad," Jaina confessed, keeping her voice low and quiet. "Now spread out with your senses. Try to feel me. You know where I am, and I am strong, so concentrate, and you should find me."   
It was slow and almost painful (he could just hear the princess saying, "Pain is an illusion; life is reality"), but eventually he bruised himself against a fire. It took him a moment to recognize the scalding, sharp-edged cluster of energy as the woman that sat in front of him. Reflexively, he (figuratively) stepped back, away from the feeling that Eyes watched him from every side, seeing everything about and within him. He pushed down the urge, however, and remembered what Jaina had done to figure out what was happening when he was "possessed". She had _poked_ him, felt around in his head.   
  
He wanted to see if he could do the same.   
  
Jaina made a small noise, as if in protest, but she clamped down on it. _If he makes it past my shields, then it'll serve him right to see,_ she reassured herself, a little bitter. But he was still her apprentice, and she couldn't let him try without a warning. "Trying to see into another's mind – particularly a healing, potentially chaotic mind – can be dangerous. Hold back some of yourself."   
  
Tiran ignored her, and Jaina grimaced. In a small way, he was like her: he would learn things the hard way.   
  
She almost pitied him.   
  
Tiran's brow furrowed in concentration, though he wasn't aware of that. His grasp on (Jaina would demur that it was a companionship _with_) the Force – still new to him – was clumsy, but when he focused on making it into a key to Jaina's mind, it obeyed. Or allowed.   
  
Jaina's fists tightened as she felt him push her shielding aside, but she had consciously gentled the walls, and so she forced herself to abide the intrusion. She had had three masters in her life, and all had allowed her to do what Tiran tried now.   
  
She whispered an apology to them, if only for her conscious' sake. She hadn't realized how unnerving and demeaning it was.   
  
Tiran only wanted to peek in – he had no real goal, which was just as well, since he would have been unable to accomplish it. When he entered her thoughts, however, he was blasted. Chaos danced before him; unshed tears froze him, and unspeakable anger burned him. Blood – pain, and guilt too deep to bear – drenched him until he wanted to cry out.   
  
He knew this mind. He knew this state of being.   
  
But he had not realized its savagery…its desolation.   
  
He was going to apologize, but abruptly Jaina threw him out of her head, and he opened his eyes to see her strained face. She had too much royalty in her blood to accept his condolences.   
  
And she was too much of a fighter to admit their similarities when she was vulnerable.   
  
"Enough games," she said, her voice clipped. "The Force isn't your playmate; it will use you, as well. So reach out, as far as you can, and meet your _real_ master."   
  
He was blocked from her mind as if his intrusion had never been, and Tiran was too bewildered by shaming realization to speak. He stretched out, rebelliousness momentarily disappearing into the hope that she would understand his sympathy in his obedience.   
  
Before the universe propelled him to unknown heights, he wondered how he would be able to live with this, and if, perhaps, he had gotten into more than he had expected.

--------

_ In their corner of the universe-that-was-beyond, the Spirits sighed.   
  
"At last," the First Said, "he begins to understand."   
  
"For how long?" the Fifth retorted. If she had been Dead/alive, her grey eyes might have flashed.   
  
The Fourth withdrew, and then blinked sleepily. "For as long as he needs to. He begins; it is enough, for now."   
  
"But she does not," the Sixth Said – despairingly, and even a little condescendingly, it seemed to the others.   
  
The Ninth and the Third Spoke at the same time. "She will."   
  
The Ninth laughed, and added, "And the Shield…"   
  
But the others did not Understand. Even the Third appeared confused.   
  
The Ninth only continued to watch, amusement shining from her face, untainted, in a way it never had in life/Death. She, above all, knew how the most unlikely love and friendship could surpass everything.   
  
She knew – as the others did not – that there was far more at work than their simple minds could understand. This was not merely preparation for the Prophecy. The Strings had been her confidant through many years before her death; she was used to Seeing what was not yet there._

----------"Good morning, Solo. Did you sleep well?"   
  
Jaina glared at Garik's blue face. The morning holo talks were becoming a tradition; she had the feeling it was because he was (condescendingly) checking in to make sure she hadn't put her hand in the cookie jar. Or killed Tiran.   
  
Infuriating, to be treated like a child after having fought a war; Garik was the only one who could get away with it, and only just.   
  
"I'm fine," she groused, rubbing some sleep from her eyes. He had called earlier than usual, and she was a mess: she was still in her sleep pants, her hair was mussed, her complexion was pasty and her eyes drooped. She had spent too long out of the cockpit; she was becoming lazy. Once, she was able to sneak just two hours of sleep, head out and shoot down some skips, then go out for a sim with friends, all without batting an eye.   
  
"You look like bantha dung," Garik stated bluntly.   
  
Her jaw dropped. "You call me up at eight in the morning and expect me to look like a prima donna?? If you were any closer, I'd deck you."   
  
"I'm sure you would," he agreed smoothly.   
  
He was being condescending again, she fumed. "Garik Klamath," she said with bite, "have I ever, in all the time you've known me, been a morning person?"   
  
Garik coughed, and she knew he was covering a smile. "Well, now that you mention it…no – you haven't. You're an absolute ogre in the morning. I assume this has a point? Or are you using illogical thought process again?"   
  
She gave him the Evil Eye.   
  
"I assure you, I called for a reason," he placated her.   
  
"Fine." She attacked her hair with a brush. "What is it?"   
  
He raised an eyebrow, and she pouted. He gave her a look, and she sighed. "Please?" she said grudgingly.   
  
"Of course, Solo," he said easily. "I was recently sent to witness the annual elections on a planet named Cryta 3; it's a smaller planet a few parasecs beyond Borleias. It depends mainly on agriculture, although their history is exquisitely stored as well. It's quiet, and the people there are friendly toward the Jedi."   
  
_A rare thing indeed,_ she admitted, a little sullenly. But she was starting to wake up, at least. "What about it?"   
  
"Since you've apparently decided to go back on your spectacularly ill-timed promise not to take an apprentice – " He gave her an irritated (or at least harried) look, "you may want to consider accommodations outside of the army base, especially considering you wouldn't have a home within a year."   
  
She hadn't thought of that. _Kriff it, Garik; why couldn't you be the Jedi? I'd feel a little better about our survival if you were._ "I assume you found a place?"   
  
He gave a faint smile. "Would I be telling you about this if I hadn't? It's fairly remote, but there is a small community that isn't too far away. The area is particularly vibrant with life – you'd like it. Parts reminded me of Yavin 4, though more tamed."   
  
"It's a farming community, not a tropical paradise," she started.   
  
"Not this area," he replied. "No one's touched it – at least, not so you can tell. The better part of it, however, is you could plant your own food; I have a feeling government funding might be slightly lacking in the future, despite some of my negotiations."   
  
Another thing she hadn't thought of. What was she getting herself into?   
  
"The land is fairly inexpensive," he continued. "A river runs on the property and into a nearby lake. The current isn't too fast, and the water is quite warm."   
  
The idea of Garik testing the water in a suit caused Jaina's eyes to gleam. "I don't suppose this place has a building?"   
  
He smiled. "I was saving that for last, but very well. It's large, with room to grow or add to, if you need the expansion. I believe it may have been a small hotel once, before the owner realized that no one visited the planet, other than eccentric relatives of the natives. There are rooms that, when cleaned out, would be ideal for indoor sparring. There's a large amount of bedrooms sprinkled throughout. It's not opulent, by any means, but…"   
  
She grinned. "Have I ever – "   
  
"Suggested you enjoyed opulence?" he finished. The diplomat raised an eyebrow. "No. I said it merely so you wouldn't pout upon seeing it, should you be in one of your 'Princess' moods."   
  
Becoming aware of a buzzing, and the smell of smoke, Jaina held up one finger. "One minute, 'kay?" Without waiting for his reply, she jogged to the kitchen and rescued her breakfast, which looked charred (she was used to it) even though she had originally planned on only re-heating it (again). Racing back, she narrowly avoided tripping over her returned laundry. _Maybe it's time to do a quarters clean up…?_ She dismissed the idea almost as soon as it entered her head.   
  
Jaina plopped back onto the couch and curled her feet under her. "Back," she said with a grin. "And without a fire, this time."   
  
"Have a nice trip?" Garik asked dryly, eying her sliding, syrup covered waffles. "By the way, your whipped cream is dripping."   
  
Jaina stopped the white stream with her index finger and sucked the sweet liquid off. "Yum. Thanks. And it's whipped _milk_ – water and powder mixed by yours truly," she added airily. "Anyway, I take it you want me to come see this place of yours?"   
  
"_Your_ place, you mean," he corrected, and Jaina thought he looked remarkably like a cat with cream. "I already convinced the Senate to purchase it."   
  
Her eyes widened. "Really?" she said, drawing the word out. "How'd you manage that?"   
  
Garik's face contorted in remembered pain, and his hand drifted to his temple for a moment. "With a lot of headaches. Also, I told them it would keep you out of their way, but within sight."   
  
She grumbled. "You make me sound like an irresponsible, unwanted child."   
  
"Poor baby," he replied unsympathetically.   
  
She crammed an extra big piece of waffle into her mouth, just to annoy him. But he had been nice enough to find her a house, so she swallowed before speaking again. "How'd you get the Senate to part with their beloved credits?"   
  
"My father – " she noticed that he treaded carefully on that word, "was killed somewhat recently, as you know, and the Senate had yet to give the final, "family condolences" payment. He had already set up a…trust fund, if you will, for the Jedi Order. I guess he finally decided to use his spades of money to do something worthwhile."   
  
She hesitated, but decided not to touch the subject of the Klamath Divorce and Other Family Problems. Shifting awkwardly only resulted in almost landing her leftover waffle in her lap, so she stared at the ground, hoping for inspiration.   
  
"How's that apprentice of yours?"   
  
Relieved, Jaina snorted. "Oh. Tiran. Well, he's stubborn and – you know – pig-headed, but otherwise it's all right." She laughed. "You should've been there when I showed him the Jedi robes… Honestly…"{Flashback}   
  
Jaina was only too conscious that she was holding a now-dead Jedi's extra robe. "This one should fit you," she said, practically shoving it into Tiran's arms.   
  
He stared at it before slowly shaking it out. His mouth smoothed into a firm, irritated line, and he tried to give it back to her. "Not in this galaxy."   
  
She pushed his arms back. "This is the traditional Jedi garb; you _will_ wear it."   
  
"It's a dress!" he protested scathingly, holding it away from him when she wouldn't accept it.   
  
She put her hands on her hips, frustrated beyond belief. "Why do you always have to argue with _everything_?" she demanded. "It is _not_ a dress, it's a _robe_!"   
  
"In some languages, the two mean the same thing," he retorted. "I'm not wearing it, and you can't make me."   
  
"Please," she muttered. "Is this about your male ego, or something? You think it'll hurt your image? A robe can't hurt it any more than it your…well, you-ness; besides, girls like mystique. If you stand in the right light, you almost look like, er…" When no dashing, rebellious Jedi that even remotely fit Tiran's description came to mind, Jaina sighed and Force-glued the robe to his chest. "Look, you don't have to wear it all the time – just on missions, or when you're representing the Jedi Order."   
  
He tugged at the cloak, but it wouldn't move. "That a promise?" he grunted, eying her sceptically.   
  
She rolled her eyes. "You don't see me in my Jedi robe, do you?"   
  
Tiran continued to pull on his cloak while watching her. "I didn't hear you promise."   
  
"Oh, for Force's sake! I _promise_, okay?" She spun on her heel and went to re-"organize" the boxes she had pulled aside when looking for the robe.   
  
A few minutes later, Tiran appeared, the cloak still hopelessly attached to his T-shirt. "Uh…Solo…help?"   
  
{End of flashback}  
"Sounds like you got what you deserved," Garik remarked.   
  
"And what's that?" Jaina demanded.   
  
"An apprentice who will drive you insane for all the grey hair you gave to your own masters."   
  
"Hey!" she protested. "I never tinkered with the hot/cold shower controls."   
  
Garik snickered. "Perhaps not, but I've heard enough stories about you rearranging the _Falcon_'s wiring. Besides, you forget that Tiran will have to live with your despairing domestic skills. I assume your bed's still unmade?"   
  
She glared at him. "I'm nineteen years old, Diplomat Klamath, and you are not my mother."   
  
His lips curved mockingly. "Certainly brings the galaxy into perspective, doesn't it?"  
-------   
  
Jaina wasn't quite sure what to make of an apprentice that didn't want to spar; she had always been under the impression that it was one of the best parts of being a Jedi. Or, at least, the most attractive to apprentices. Tiran, however, took one look at the stun rod, swept his eyes over her, then put his foot down.   
  
"Why not?" she complained. "Is this one of your rebellious moments? Because you're missing out."   
  
He stared at the hydrospanner he was fidgeting with, then mumbled something.   
  
"I didn't catch that," she replied.   
  
"I'm not going to fight a girl," he said more loudly.   
  
She stared at him, slack-jawed. On impulse, she ignited the stun-beam and brought it down two centimetres away from his left thigh before stepping back. He jumped and looked up at her. "What was that for?"   
  
"For being an idiot," she retorted, tossing the other beam to him.   
  
He caught it with minimum fumbling before placing it on the table next to him.   
  
Jaina gritted her teeth. "You know, Lee-droy, you have really horrible timing… Put the gentleman thing off for a few more years, would you?"   
  
"I thought Jedi weren't supposed to be bloodthirsty," Tiran mocked, his face becoming ruddy with embarrassment.   
  
"They aren't, but surviving is generally a good thing." Sarcasm was used liberally.   
  
"You know," Tiran remarked, "I bet this is why Mr. Possessive is able to do what he can; some fool – sorry, Jedi – trained him so he could 'protect himself' and he took it overboard."   
  
Jaina filed the idea away in order to hit it off Garik later, but didn't allow herself to be distracted. "Quit stalling."   
  
He glared at the stun-beam in her hands.   
  
The Sword of the Jedi rolled her eyes. "Fine. If it makes you feel any better, we'll leave the one-on-one sparring until later. Today I'll just shoot at you – " She looked rather gleeful about the idea, "and you can deflect the bolts."   
  
He glanced up at her, and she noticed that his gaze lingered over her shoulder. She turned to see what had caught his interest, and blinked when she recognized the holo as one of her and her father in front of the _Falcon_. The memory was like a slap in the face. _Sith, I do not need to have another pity-party/lost-forever moment,_ she thought angrily.   
  
Tiran noticed the change. "Hey, Princess, you okay?"   
  
She took a deep breath and purposely turned her back on the holo. The image was still burned onto her brain. "I'm _fine_," she retorted. "And if I wasn't, why would you care?"   
  
"You said it yourself – I've been where you are."   
  
If she hadn't glared at him first, he would have thought she didn't hear him, because she offered, "I'll make you a deal. I know you can't fly but want to – and I'm a pilot more than I'll ever be a Jedi. If you agree to train without a fuss – even when sparring with a girl – I'll teach you to fly."   
  
He considered her proposal and then sighed. Flying lessons had been one of the many things Molair had promised to teach him; he wasn't sure he wanted to be taught by anyone else. But…well, with the Princess as his master, he'd probably have to learn anyway – if not to co-pilot, then to pilot himself around for missions. "It's a deal," he yielded.   
  
She nodded in satisfaction. "Good. I'll reserve the simulator for tomorrow, if I can. Until then, pick up that stun-rod and follow me."   
  
Jaina could be really annoying, Tiran decided. "I saw you break," he called after her, trying to get a rise out of the fiery woman. "Back there – with the holo."   
  
Her stride hitched for a moment before continuing on, outwardly confident. "No – you saw me crack, for not even a second. You'll never see me break."

_  
--------------   
_

_As one, the Spirits sighed. It had taken great effort for them to place that holo-image on the Sword's mantle; affecting the living/Dying's physical world was difficult.   
  
"We have to be patient," the Third Said, although he appeared irritated.   
  
The Second crossed her arms over her chest. "It can be difficult for one to let go of their independence," the Second admitted, although she was also frustrated.   
  
"And I used to believe that Solo pride was a good thing," the First moaned.   
  
They all shot him an odd look.   
  
The First had used the speech style of the living/Dying._

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urgh...this new QuickEdit thing is driving me insane. Sorry if any of the set up comes out weird; I'm adapting to this all :  
  
-TJF


	15. A Time of Chaos and Order

Hello! Sorry it took so long to update; I finished posting this on JC, and now the SFFA (Summer Fan Fiction Awards, also on JC) are coming up. Been a bit busy, though, truth be told, part of it was because I don't relish the new document uploader :P 

_--  
_

_ Replies_:

**Jedi from Rohan**: isn't it? Predicting things make shadows appear around every corner :P The Jedi robes thing was fun – I'm a frenchie (currently in French immersion), so I'm always picking up the weirdest coincidences, lol. I started this series on the JC boards, but you probably recognize the title from Madonna's song "Die Another Day", which I so fortunately stumbled upon while I was resigning myself to another mediocre title ;) Hopefully I'm not too predictable. I like talking about my stories, so my readers always seem to find out too much while I'm gabbing :P

I like the dark side…it's very convenient. 'The dark side made me do it!' lol. But I also think that if everyone's left to their own morals…well, things could get really sticky, really quickly. winces Anyway, yeah, re-reading should help, if only because you know things from later. Oh, and if things don't add up, hopefully it's because I did it on purpose, for suspense things later ;) Hmm…new story, eh? Can I have a hint? :D

**  
Ameri**: you find out who some of the spirits are in the last bit. Kyp isn't so much in this until the next one, but "the creature thing" will _definitely_ be around! And yes, I do have a J/Z series called "Always". I'll get it on here eventually – I just want to do some re-working on it first :P

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Chapter Fifteen: "A Time of Chaos and Order" 

{Two Months Later}   
  
"I am going to go insane," Jaina stated, not wasting time with pleasantries.   
  
The corners of Garik's mouth twitched before his expression smoothed into one of concern. "Why might that be?"   
  
She released a long, irritated groan. "Because this is impossible. Neither of us likes the other."   
  
"I assume you are speaking of your nefarious apprentice and yourself?"   
  
"No, I mean Blarney the Frayt Dragon and the polka-dotted pony that is me," she snapped. At Garik's raised eyebrow, she softened. "He learns well enough, and he managed to pick up sparring pretty well, I guess, but we spend half of our training time just sniping at each other. It's like me and that former psychiatrist of mine."   
  
" 'That former psychiatrist of yours'?" Garik repeated, smirking. "Considering your current state of mental well-being, perhaps you should delete the 'former' part."   
  
"Oh be quiet," she moaned. "You can tease because you have it so easy. Lee-droy is impossible. If it's not his nickname for me – since when have I ever been a Princess? – it's his pranks. I would _love_ to have a shower without worrying that he's played with the hot/cold controls. And he still won't admit to any admiration for the Jedi – "   
  
"I bet that bit the Solo pride," Garik murmured.   
  
She ignored him. If she didn't give into his desperate need for attention, he might not be so condescending when she obviously needed a sympathetic friend. "The day he does something _nice_ – even something small, like help me straighten up the training area after a sparring session – is the day Tatooine replaces Coruscant on the social scale."   
  
"Well then, I suppose you know the solution."   
  
Jaina blinked. "You mean you know _already_? No wonder you're the smart one…"   
  
Garik faked a yawn. "Do let me know when you have finished listing the reasons I'm, _ahem_, better than you."   
  
She threw a pillow at the screen and made a face. "Remind me to bring a pin to pop your ego next time. Now – share your genius."   
  
He smiled. "Thank you, _Master_ Solo," he murmured sweetly, eyes twinkling. "Now, as I was going to say before your ill-timed – but of course always welcome – interruption…" Jaina glared at him, causing his smirk to grow. "You've been holding back on his training; that needs to stop," he said finally.   
  
Her jaw dropped. "Not fair!" she complained. "I have too been training him! He already knows how to meditate, levitate – small – objects, enhance his strength through the Force and spar…albeit awkwardly."   
  
"Outside of this conversation, and knowing the Solo/Skywalker heritage," Garik broke into her rant, "might I suggest you throw some healing in there for good measure?"   
  
Jaina's countenance was miserable. "Don't even talk about healing," she sulked. "I'm horrible at it, and you know it."   
  
"That you are," he agreed smoothly. "And that is why I suggested it.   
  
"However," Garik continued, coming back to the original topic, "that was not what I meant. You have trained him, yes, but he has had no chances to put what he learned to good use. I may not be a Jedi, but I am aware that…'adventures' – even something as simple as aiding refugees – can strengthen relationships. The adventures of your friends and yourself proved that. Certainly, you and your Academy friends were very close."   
  
"Yeah," she said flatly, her eyes becoming dead, "until one of us was laid out on a – "   
  
"That wasn't what I meant, kriff it!" he said vehemently. "I wasn't going to bring him into this but yes, you were close until you came face to face with real trauma – real death – and then _you_, Jaina Solo, decided to close yourself off from others. Not anyone else, just you. But the others – they were always there, ready to support you if you ever let them, because they were your friends and you had all gone to Hell and back – together, until you chose to go alone. They were ready to take you back. Why? Because you had built your friendship and trust on something that either makes or breaks a group. You were made by it."   
  
Her head had dropped, and Garik couldn't see the tears that he suspected were trailing down her face. "Jaina," he said softly. She stirred at the sound of her name, which he rarely used. "I don't mean to be cruel; I know…" he sighed and drew his fingers through his hair. "I know you never forgot or got over him. I _know_; but if you want to survive as a Jedi Master…and especially if you want to save the relationship you have with Tiran…you need to. You need to let it go. All of it." She looked up, her face streaked with tears which fell – as always – silently.   
  
"Both of you have so much baggage," he went on, certain she was listening, hoping she would understand his point. "You hold so much back because of it, and Tiran can feel that. I don't know what it is that weighs on him so heavily – more than just Lin-Ta's destruction – but from what you've told me I'd guess it has to do largely with his sister. One of you has to trust the other enough to let go, and you can't properly call yourself a Jedi Master unless you can do what your apprentice cannot."   
  
Jaina stared at him, sniffling, and blindly grabbed a tissue. It didn't reach her nose – just twisted in her fingers. "I think I'd prefer that you were in my spot right now, Garik," she said finally, her voice filled with fog. "I'd feel a lot better about the future of the Jedi." She paused. "Where would you suggest I start? With the mission," she hastened to add, and he realized that she wasn't going to accept his advice – not yet, anyway.   
  
He sat back slowly, hearing the plastic squeak just a little. "Glipta is going through a time of chaos and order," he started contemplatively. To his side, he gestured for a screen to rise. Clicking a few buttons brought up script on the current events on the planet. He tapped his chin without realizing it, and the Jedi smiled faintly, comforted that Garik never really changed.   
  
"Isn't that kind of a paradox?" she asked quietly. " 'A time of chaos and order'?"   
  
"Yes, but I don't think you understand what 'paradox' means," he remarked, grinning abruptly. "The Jedi Academy must not have covered literary terms very well. 'Paradox' is when a sentence seems to cancel itself out, but is actually true. For example: 'Jaina Solo is able to calm herself enough to get into a meditative state.' See?"   
  
She wiped her nose and made a face at him. "Ha-ha, very funny."   
  
"The war is ending; people want to go home. Glipta was abandoned by a large percentage of its population, so of course the state of said planet is chaotic. Chaos is generally the first step into order."   
  
Jaina groaned. "You're being philosophical now."   
  
He paused, then smiled and nodded once, blushing faintly. "Perhaps a little. My point is that the Glipta has beings aplenty in need of aid."   
  
"Hardly an adventure," she commented.   
  
Garik snickered. "You are your father's daughter, Solo; I'm sure you'll find several along the way. Which is why I suggested you teach Tiran something in the line of healing."   
  
She fell back onto her bed. "I hate it when you run circles around me," she complained. "Why do politicians have to do that? You know you'll win."   
  
"I am a diplomat, not a politician." She could hear the kilometre long smile in his voice. "And I do it, dear one, because it bothers you."   
  
Jaina sighed and blew her nose. "Of course."   
  
------   
  
"Just keep your mouth closed, and we'll be fine," Jaina told her apprentice.   
  
He barely spared her a glance, as he was a little more preoccupied with fighting for his composure. Jaina had, with great trepidation, allowed him to take the controls as they pulled out of hyperspace. He was nearly jumping out of his skin, but the last thing he wanted was for her to know that.   
  
"You're a horrible actor," she said bluntly, noticing the huge, crazy-man grin he tried to hide.   
  
Tiran's excitement made for a quick surrender. "Just let me savour it."   
  
Rolling her eyes, Jaina nevertheless couldn't help a flicker of pride and understanding. She would never forget the first time her dad let her take the controls. Her reminiscing was broken with a flinch. "Look out for that – "   
  
Tiran pulled them up and out of the way, just in time to avoid flying right into a tree. He winced. "Uh, yeah, okay, maybe enough savouring today…"   
  
"Maybe," Jaina agreed, smirking.   
  
He glared at her, then returned to concentrating on landing. They came down with a suspicious wobble, and something shrieked quietly, but Jaina nodded in approval. "Not _too_ bad," she admitted grudgingly. "You shouldn't take it down at such a sharp angle, though. The shaking…well, even you'll learn, eventually."   
  
Tiran tried his best to hide his blush of pride. Compliments without an attached insult from his master were…rare. He didn't bother to think about how much it meant to him, that he was doing well as a Jedi, and that Jaina would say as much. Although their relationship was slowly, grudgingly making room for respect, neither was ready to admit that out loud, least of all Tiran.   
  
"Well, uh, thanks," he grunted finally.   
  
She ignored his words. "Come on; the governor's waiting on the waiting dais; wouldn't want to send the politicians in a tizzy." Her voice was soaked in mockery.   
  
He frowned, a little confused; he had next to no experience with politicians. "They wouldn't…do anything, would they?" he asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder.   
  
"To you?" She shrugged. "Oh, probably not. You're just a helpless pawn in the big bad Jedi's nefarious – and politically incorrect – plots." She paused and grinned over at him mischievously. "Unless, of course, their daughters start up their chorus of hero-worship-crush sighs because of you."   
  
He blushed, and she laughed. It was too easy.   
  
--------   
  
They survived the "political" meeting with minimal fuss; it helped that Jaina had worn her "Goddess" expression, the mockery dimmed enough to pass their inspection. Tiran fumbled with his titles, which Jaina had expected but not corrected. Seeing the governor and his counsellors' stare at Tiran, aghast by his informal (or too formal) behaviour, had made her day.   
  
"You did that on purpose," he sulked as soon as they were alone.   
  
Jaina looked at him innocently. "Who, me?"   
  
He rolled his eyes, then grinned reluctantly. "Okay, so I might have slept through the protocol lesson," he admitted.   
  
Jaina snorted at the memory. She'd been watching, waiting for him to swallow the fly that hovered over his open mouth. "Maybe. I hope you were awake when you learned how to pack everything into the one tent, and then separate the room, though; it would be tricky to set it up by myself, with just the Force to do it."   
  
"But the Force can do anything," Tiran replied, mock-horrified. "And so can my dear, all-powerful Master!"   
  
She glared at him and flipped her hair. "I said it would be _tricky_ – I didn't say it was impossible. Never doubt a Goddess."   
  
He rolled his navy eyes and muttered something about "pilot's ego".   
  
Jaina scowled, taking it personally. "What about mechanic's prejudice?" she retorted.   
  
Tiran raised his hands in surrender, but anger stirred in his blood. For a second, their conversation had been normal, even comfortable. Why did she always have to take offence? He refused to admit that his thoughts were hypocritical.   
  
_Let it go._   
  
The words drifted through his mind, source unknown. Tiran obeyed them with ill grace. If Jaina ever found out that he'd ignored what could very well be the Force, he'd be meditating until his knees bled.   
  
Tiran threw himself down on his newly spread bed roll; it wasn't as comfortable as a fall onto his bed, but it made his point. "Whatever, Princess," he muttered, his voice as close to meek as it came.   
  
She stared at him, eyebrows meeting above her nose. Then her eyes stormed, and she turned on her heel. Tension bit at the atmosphere. Vaguely, Tiran felt the Princess draw the Force around her. His own exasperation grew as he realized he and Jaina would either tear each other apart, or be the best master/apprentice team in Jedi history. He didn't hold much hope for the latter.   
  
Clutching her temples, Jaina exited the tent.

-

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**Author's Note**: Glipta is a planet I made up. I was originally going to send them to Bilbringi, but when I found out more about them, I realized that it really didn't suit my purposes. So "Glipta" was made not too far from Myrkyr. (dun dun dun?)

-TJF


	16. It Will Be Okay

**Author's Note**: I uploaded two chapters at a time again, so if you don't know what "Glipta" is, you might want to go back one chapter ;)

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**Chapter Sixteen: "It Will Be Okay"**

.

Jaina's head ached, and that, more than her guilt, made her walk away from the argument. She would just have to try to patch things up (again) in the evening. They'd have to work together to organize their tiny living quarters, but it could wait a few more hours.   
  
Rubbing the top sides of her forehead, she grabbed her rolled up bed pallet and walked to the stream she had seen earlier. Setting the pallet down on the blue grass, Jaina took a deep breath, letting the Force flood her senses.   
  
Her headache was growing, and the world twirled around her. She sat down on the makeshift bed, but, when the stream and the trees continued to move, she lay down. Her feet trailed off the pallet, but she didn't change position. _I'll move them in a minute,_ she decided, closing her eyes against the too-bright colours of her surroundings. The stream's music grew until it sounded more like a river's roar, and she winced.   
  
_I'll get up in a minute,_ she promised as fog nestled around her mind. _Just a…just…_   
  
-  
  
_She was in a cockpit; how, she didn't know. It didn't matter, anyway. Facing her – in the pilot's seat – was a relaxed (but with his composure carefully maintained) man. Something about him was vaguely familiar, but she forgot to figure it out when the ship rocked.   
  
Eyes sharpening with alertness and battle instincts, the pilot immediately threw his ship into manoeuvres as it was yanked out of hyperspace.   
  
She remained stationary.   
  
When the pilot twirled off to the left, her eyes saw deactivated holos rattle in an attachable cloth pocket.   
  
The ship rocked and alarm made the pilot's eyes bright. His hands flew over the control panel in preparation for landing. Jaina started, having not realized that they were so close to a planet. The ship shook again, more violently. The pilot's arm muscles jumped and flexed, his entire body appearing tight as he strained to come down in a survivable landing.   
  
She knew, at the same time he did, that it was too late. Regret glared from his eyes, with realization as its kindling. "I'm sorry," he murmured, the faintest glimmer of defeat in his pale green eyes. "I'm_ sorry_."   
  
Her limbs sludged like molasses, but she managed to turn around in time to see boulders and huge, jungle trees race into the viewport…_   
  
-  
  
The Force shrieked, bringing Jaina out of her sleep, and then it silenced. Her closed eyes kept the tears at bay. _Why?_ she wondered when she had managed to pull herself out of the haze that followed her dream (or was it a vision?). _Why show me that?_   
  
Her waking mind offered the name of the pilot – Colonel Jagged Fel of the Chiss. What little she remembered of him came rushing to the fore. He had lost a brother. His arrogance and schoolmaster solemnity had been almost oppressive.   
  
_He clung to the past. He crashed alone, never telling others he cared. Will you do the same?_   
  
The words made Jaina physically start, almost guiltily. An image of a dark-haired, green eyed Jedi rose in her mind.   
  
The voice continued. _It's too late to save the lost. You are the Sword; your destiny begins when you join your Edge._   
  
That broke the mood – "her Edge"? An image of her apprentice agreed with the words. Her mind swirled at the thought, but managed a hesitant question: _What should I do? How do I…?_   
  
The voice was silent, and Jaina hurtled into concrete reality. Apparently, the voice didn't want to explain. She was a little disgusted with it, for that.   
  
Trembling, she got to her feet and, ignoring her sleeping pad, she wobbled back to the tent she shared with Tiran. He was gone, and although it wasn't a surprise (who just sat around on their first mission?) she found herself disappointed.   
  
The tent was only barely set up, so Jaina sat on the ground, sighing, and grabbed her bag. She'd made the mistake of telling Garik that she wasn't sleeping well; the consequence was that he continued to hover like a mother bird. At the moment, however, she needed to see a friendly face.   
  
As she'd expected (hoped), her com-link blinked with a message. Grinning softly despite her earlier vision (or was it only a dream?), Jaina activated the message, and Garik's voice tinned in the tent:   
  
_"Hey, Solo. I don't have long – it's only a recess – but I thought I'd check up on you. I braved my mother's doctor to find a potential remedy for your insomnia. He suggested drinking warm milk – "_ Jaina could almost hear Garik grimace, _"and meditating before you sleep. I realize it is basic, but considering your inability to think when outside of fighting, I thought it might be best to repeat this.   
  
"My own advice, however, is that you face your demons, Solo."_ Garik paused, and Jaina heard muttering in the background. _"It seems my wisdom is once again needed to protect the galaxy – and the Jedi, of course. Please call me when you are able; my leave begins next week, so use my private, mobile line.   
  
"Try to avoid kidnapping and death, dear one,"_ Garik hurried, _"It would be most inconvenient if I had to negotiate your ransom, or find someone to bring you back to life."_   
  
A click sounded leaving Jaina, resigned to her fate. _Face your demons.   
  
Why couldn't it be face the future? Isn't that scary enough?_   
  
Despite her protests, she began to pack a bag.

-----

Tiran wasn't quite sure what had happened in the past few hours; Jaina's vague mutterings and abrupt departure did nothing to clear things up. The only thing that had stuck thus far was that the princess, his master, had just raced off on an unknown expedition, leaving him rather clueless. Despite her assurances that she would be back within a day, panic was beginning to set in. Hurried explanations had been scribbled on a datapad, including her com-link number but stress clouded his eyes.   
  
_What just happened?_ he wondered, looking around the tent blankly. _And what am I supposed to do now?_ He'd help the refugees, supposedly, but to whom should he report? Jaina had also mentioned negotiating and soothing tempers – but how the kriff was he supposed to do that?   
  
_Where'd she go?_   
  
-----   
  
To step off the launch pad took all of Jaina's willpower and then some. Even then she trembled slightly, like a piece of flimsi in the wind. Her sienna eyes scanned the desolate landscape nervously, and memories flooded her.   
  
Myrkr.   
  
Her demons' home – or, at least, their headquarters.   
  
Barely aware of anything save the dead's cries, she handed a traffic guard some credits to watch her ship. Her feet began moving, almost without her permission, out of the landing area. The path to the destroyed cloning facility, although the reverse of the one she'd travelled three years ago, was ingrained deep in her mind.   
  
Jaina had heard that the blackened complex had been, ironically, changed into a memorial building for the Strike Team members. She had never gone to see it; in fact Jaina was quite sure that, of the survivors, only "Queen Mother" Tenel Ka had – but she had been the one to initiate its creation.   
  
The thought only reminded Jaina that, of that hopeful, determined group, only she remained. _Stupid,_ she berated herself mentally. _Don't think about it. This is confrontation-of-emotion, not detach-yourself-with-statistics.   
  
Then stop right here and face the oldest problem,_ said a voice (not the one from earlier, but nevertheless familiar), and Jaina realized she was in a clearing.   
  
Her mind froze momentarily before she stifled the rebuke and ran from the glade. She'd say goodbye to _him_ later. Garik might think that kicking the root of the problem was the best way, but she intended to do a great deal of emotional gardening before she went back six years.   
  
Barely organized ruin rose up in front of her, dragging her thoughts into the present. Her boots clapped against the stone, then quieted as she stopped.   
  
_I can't do this.   
  
You have to.   
  
It's so hard to let go…   
  
We know. Go._   
  
She stumbled along, as if someone had pushed her from behind. She kept her eyes on the ground, watching the dust and leaves rustle as she strode toward the centre of the building. _Just take it one step at a time. You can do this._   
  
All too soon, she reached the centre of the building. Dreading it, her head tipped back to take in the whole chiselled scene. Tenel Ka had spared no expense in its creation, and artists and sculptors had created a heroic tribute to the fall of several young Jedi, and the ones they had left behind.   
  
Setting her jaw, the survivor stepped in front of Anakin's image. He was off to the side, alone and defiant, going out in a blaze. Just over his shoulder, a faint design of Tahiri's face watched.   
  
Tahiri Veila.   
  
_I understood you,_ Jaina thought bitterly. _Better than you ever dreamed._   
  
It had never been talked about, the reason Jaina changed so much before the war; at first, it was because Jaina refused to speak about it. The reasons had changed – to pity, first, and then to busyness and inability to explain away the death. They had said they were being understanding, but in actuality no one had known what to say when Zekk disappeared.   
  
Jaina, for her part, had clung to the hope that he was still alive, long after she should have. Like Tahiri, she hadn't wanted to give up on her first love – hadn't wanted to admit that he was _gone_. In the end, she'd forced the truth down her throat and thrown herself into the war. She put away the holos, the dreams and the nightmares; she adopted everyone's tactic: she refused to mention it, even in her thoughts.   
  
_I should have told Tahiri._   
  
Something gasped and shrieked, and it was a moment before Jaina realized that it was her making that noise. _I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry…_   
  
Her fingernails dug into the carved folds of Anakin's tunic as she fell against the wall. Tears slid in torrents until there was nothing left, and she stepped back, dry.   
  
Anakin stood over her, sure in his path.   
  
-----  
  
There she was – an easy target. Vaguely, the man was surprised that it had been so easy. _They_ had said it would be difficult, after all, and they had never spared him the foretelling. They liked to make him dread the future.   
  
But perhaps there was still a spark of humanity in them, and they wanted him to appreciate a break…?   
  
_It will be okay._   
  
He aimed and shot the dart. She started, then fell – just as planned.   
  
_It will be okay._

-

--

---

----

bwahahah! Cliffies, specially made, just for you ;P Let me know what you think!

-TJF


	17. Molair

Sorry this took as long as it did! School's out now, however, so hopefully chapters will go up quicker :) Oh, and if you notice that the html is somewhat...sporadic, I apologize. This QuickEdit program likes to change things  
  
--  
  
Tessaflo: Yeah, I know; I'm evil :P The characters just can't seem to get past my angsty streak. Is there a particular OC that you noticed was edging toward Gary Studom? Thanks for the heads up, btw ;) I'll keep a closer eye on their development. If things are too vague, I apologize. It's the first time suspense has played such a large role in one of my stories. takes notes Thank you for reading! 

**Eowyn Skywalker**: Ah, cliffies. Gotta love them – or you'll learn to ;) There's a few of them to go. JC's an awesome site…once you known your way around. It's more of a community, which makes it funner but more difficult to break into, sometimes :P I'm glad I managed to throw you off a little :D Thanks!

**Kazzy**: Aren't you used to cliffies yet, though? I mean, it is me ;) People generally don't die in here. At least, if they do, and they come back, it's because they weren't really dead… But that's another story evil grin I hear you on the computer thing! Arrgh…we just recovered from a virus. I was ready to kill my computer.

**Ameri**: The creature thing? Do you mean BadGuy? You'll start to see in this next post. As for Kyp, however… He's not really until the sequel. Until then, you'll just have to wonder O:) Zekk was, indeed, mentioned in here, and——actually, I can't say anything else. You'll see.

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-

Chapter Seventeen: Molair 

(Note: words between / and / are spoken through a bond. The passages in italics are largely flashbacks.)

--------

It was late and Garik should have been asleep, but his eyes refused to close. He'd lain on the bed for several hours before giving up and taking up his project once more. Coruscant never slept, and the diplomat was able to bring up a shopping site and the room plans with little trouble.   
  
With some quick arithmetic, a glance at his chrono told him that it was just dinnertime on Glipta. When he was unable to remember what Jaina's favourite, manageably sized tree from Yavin 4 had been, he had his excuse to call.   
  
He rolled his chair back to the mini holo-centre and dialled Jaina's number. The screen hummed for several minutes before Jaina's voice said, "I'm busy, avoiding you, or out of reach. Leave a message – Goddess out."   
  
Garik clicked it off, smiling ruefully. Jaina had probably gotten sick of his mothering and turned her com-link off. It was the kind of irrational thing she would do, after all. Never mind that people might want to check in with her – she didn't want to hear anything.   
  
The diplomat returned to his computer. It looked as if he'd be fixing up the new Jedi residence by himself.   
  
--------   
  
It had been two days.   
  
A few years ago, Tiran had had his family and friends. A few years ago, he would have dismissed Solo's prolonged absence as trivial.   
  
After Lin-Ta, nothing was trivial.   
  
Jaina had been gone a day longer than she told him to expect, and (if she was telling the truth) there was an obsessed fan out there.   
  
Tiran had _not_ expected to be this worried.   
  
The crazy, obsessed person was supposed to be a _joke_ – at most, the product of something in the food. When Jaina had first told her apprentice about the stalker, he'd informed her that she was insane. Someone on the Jedi warpath, he could understand. The past six years had made a bleak picture of the Jedi.   
  
But someone who wanted Jaina to train them so badly that they had tried to kill Tiran for being in the same room as her? It made no sense. He couldn't even believe this was his life anymore. It all sounded like some kind of bad novel.   
  
The trill-and-buzz of a com-link hail entered Tiran's consciousness slowly. It wasn't the familiar, blaring horn that signalled his own device, and he stared around the room blankly before realizing that it must have been Jaina's.   
  
Just as it sank in that Jaina had left her com-link in her haste, the buzzing stopped. Tiran panicked. What if that had been Jaina? What if it had been someone who knew where she was? What if it had been that sick fanatic, demanding ransom?   
  
Tiran tripped to the other side of the tent and rummaged around in Jaina's bed covers until he found the small device. Fumbling in nervousness, he managed to hit the "call back" button, and he waited impatiently as the com-link buzzed.   
  
After a few rings, he heard someone pick up. "Solo?" a man's voice said clearly. "Have you decided to stop avoiding me?"   
  
Not a kidnapper, then – unless it was a trick.   
  
"Who is this?" Tiran demanded, clenching and unclenching his left fist.   
  
The other man paused before replying. "You would be Solo's…apprentice, Tiran Lee-droy, correct?" Without waiting for an answer, the man continued. "I am Garik Klamath, a friend of Miss Solo."   
  
"_Miss_ Solo?" Tiran spluttered, his paranoia fading to the background. He called Jaina "Princess", but only in mockery; she was one of the least…Lady-like women he had ever met! Who did this guy think he was, anyway?   
  
Garik bit down on an angry retort. "Might one assume you have an acceptable excuse for calling me – on your master's com-link – at such a late hour?"   
  
"You called first," Tiran replied stupidly.   
  
"True enough," the diplomat cut out. "But why did _you_ return my call?" Garik's voice was becoming increasingly cold as the conversation progressed. He had not fully believed Solo's complaints about her apprentice, but he was beginning to think he should have put more faith in her. If it had not been for the fine edge of anxiety in the other man's voice, Garik would not have continued the conversation for half its length.   
  
Tiran swallowed twice before he could speak. "She's missing. Jaina's…she's gone."   
  
"Already?" It was all Garik's mind was able to put forward before his heart squeezed into a ball. Very briefly, the galaxy shrunk around him.   
  
_I suggested this mission._   
  
"What…do you mean?"   
  
"She up and left yesterday morning – she didn't say why – but she said she'd be back today at the latest," Tiran explained in a rush.   
  
"And she has not yet returned," Garik finished, his world mechanically coming back into order now that his mind could chew on something else. "Did she take the ship?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Did you attempt to communicate with her through the ship?" Garik pressed.   
  
"No, I just realized now that she left her com-link," Tiran replied quietly.   
  
"All right then," Garik said, forcing his mind back into gear. "I suggest you try that immediately, although I doubt you will have success… Do you have any idea why she left?"   
  
Tiran shook his head. "No. She left a note, but it's basically illegible." When Garik sighed in disgust, the apprentice hurried on defensively. "Jaina said it was only instructions for me, anyway."   
  
On Coruscant, Garik leaned back in his seat and did his best to maintain his calm. "She expected to be back within a day, so she can't be far," he reasoned out loud. "Within the sector at least." _Unless she misjudged the trip, in which case there's nothing to worry about,_ Garik amended silently. But he knew that was unlikely; the Solo children had grown up in the cockpit. Not even Jacen, who had been completely engrossed first in animals and then in the Force, could have miscalculated.   
  
She had been detained, and Garik didn't think it was because Zekk suddenly came back from the dead, making her too delirious with joy to remember to call.   
  
"I will send you a list of potential destinations," Garik continued almost mechanically. "Meanwhile, I suggest you begin looking."   
  
"Right," Tiran said, increasingly nervous. "Uh, did she mention the Dark…"   
  
Apparently, she had. "I _strongly_ advise you to find her, Mister Lee-droy," Garik responded, his voice hard with threats, "both alive and quickly. I do not care what you think of her; she is important to me, and I can be dangerous when pushed. Do you understand me?"   
  
Tiran swallowed. He was past the stage of guilt that made him wish he had followed his friends and family to death. "Perfectly," he croaked.   
  
"Excellent."   
  
---------

The ship's communication system hadn't been working, so either Jaina didn't want to be disturbed or something had happened to the ship.   
  
Tiran's imagination was going wild with the possibilities.   
  
Finally, after imagining Jaina on various, archaic, gruesome torture devices, Tiran managed to sink into a half-decent meditation. That he had relaxed enough surprised him, but not for long.   
  
/Hello, brother/   
  
Tiran almost jumped right off the ground.   
  
/Sorry, kid; I guess I should have given you a little more warning/   
  
Before Tiran's disbelieving, meditation-fogged eyes, his brother's form appeared, grey eyes solemn under cocked eyebrows. "But you…Molair, you're…"   
  
Molair's face fell. "You thought I died. No…" The eldest Lee-droy son hesitated, then pushed on. "I can't really…remember what happened – I only recalled who _I_ am a short while ago."   
  
Tiran reached out to Molair, but he missed. His eyes were too blurry with tears for him to find his brother properly. "By the stars, Molair…"   
  
_My brother is alive! Molair is alive!_   
  
"Yes," Molair beamed crookedly, "I'm really alive." Abruptly, his face became shadowed. "But if you don't hurry, I won't be able to say the same about your…about Jaina."   
  
Tiran was only able to properly comprehend his brother because the image of a faceless Garik, storming and glaring, suddenly appeared in his mind. "Jaina? What do you – do you know where she is? Is she all right?"   
  
The princess probably would have rolled her eyes if someone told her Tiran was concerned, but the apprentice was far more upset than he had expected.   
  
"I didn't remember anything for so long. I'm afraid I fell in with a rather…dangerous crowd," Molair rambled, apparently trying to explain – or defend – something he had done. "One of the guys was obsessed with Jedi – Jaina Solo, in particular. I'd been working with him for so long…I – I got immune to it. I didn't think he'd actually _do_ something."   
  
"He did, though," Tiran said flatly. "He kidnapped her." The mechanic swore under his breath, and the gruesome images danced in his head once again. "What will he do to her?"   
  
Tiran didn't want to know, and he hoped Molair wouldn't answer, but the words came out anyway.   
  
Molair began to pace. "I'm staying nearby – assisting him, I admit; I was hoping to help her. Better me than some of the…others. Rialom – my…master – seems set on Jaina training him. He will do anything to convince her."   
  
Tiran felt his insides bunch and knot. Jaina had told him that she would never train this…Rialom. Never. And if Tiran had learned anything while being trained by Jaina, it was that his master could be horribly stubborn. "What will he do if she won't?"   
  
Molair didn't speak for a long moment. "You should know," he said slowly, "that Rialom is very adept with potions. He'll convince her, or no one will," Molair finished, raising his eyes to Tiran's.   
  
Tiran gulped. "Where are you?"   
  
Molair clasped his hands in front of him. With his blond-grey hair and black clothes, the man looked a little like Luke Skywalker from the old holos of the Rebellion days. "Meet me on Myrkr, and I will lead you to them."   
  
--------   
  
_It was all over. His world was nothing – nothing, without Leila or Trihs. His wife and daughter – both slaughtered in the middle of the town. Trihs had been splashing in the pool while Leila watched nearby.   
  
Leila was cleaved in two when she tried to save their daughter, and the pool was red with her blood. Trihs drowned in the pool, her skin permanently scarlet from the blood.   
  
He had come too late, prepared his surprise picnic off-world for too long. How could he go on, now?   
  
It was all dead.   
  
He wished he could say the same for himself._   
  
--------   
  
Jaina came to slowly, painfully. A specific spot on the back of her neck felt like it had been attacked with a knife. The rest of her upper body throbbed, and it felt like shards of metal had been injected into her blood.   
  
Somehow she got the feeling it wasn't all from confronting the past.   
  
"Rise and shine," someone sang.   
  
Jaina rolled onto her side, grimacing in pain the whole time. She was greeted with the sight of a man in his middle- to late-twenties. She tried to ask where was, what had happened and who he was, but all that came out was a cough.   
  
"Don't bother trying to talk," the man told her, his voice somehow pleasant, despite the circumstances. "The poison numbs your brain, among other things. You'll think better if you don't provoke it."   
  
Fuzzily, she realized she was a captive.   
  
"Rialom wants to see you now," the man continued. "Try to walk, but crawl if you must. It is excusable; your muscles are still recovering." He shrugged, as if to apologize for being unable to help her himself.   
  
_For whatever he is,_ Jaina thought as she rolled to her stumbling feet, _he's rather nice._   
  
--------   
  
A Brigga tree – clean, simple and rumoured to dispel stress. Well, Garik had been staring at it for almost two hours and he hadn't started to freak out yet, so maybe it was true. The diplomat finally bought it, annoyed by the looks he was receiving from the staff.   
  
One of his closest friends was in mortal danger, and he probably looked like some kind of crazed person who'd finally broken free of confines… But did that give others the right to stare so?   
  
Garik was dangerously close to being illogical, which scared him almost as much as did Jaina's capture.   
  
Tiran had left a cryptic message about a lead on Solo's location. The only thing the apprentice actually affirmed was that Kyp's warning was true, and Solo was now in the hands of some monster named Rialom.   
  
Of course, no one had deigned Garik worthy of knowing anything. As usual.   
  
_Just think of hotel decorating. The stone is already laid down in Solo's rooms. Now you just have to buy the plants and…   
  
Maybe I should reserve a med-room, just in case,_ he thought with a sigh of frustration that drew stares. It was probably his most logical thought all day – after all, one never knew how little Solo had taught her apprentice about healing.   
  
--------   
  
_How long did he lie there? Three hours? Three days? He was too weak – from pain, from thirst, from relief – to run when the 'Vong rushed him.   
  
He waited for everything to disappear, but instead he heard buzzing, and black struck the warrior down, seeming to swallow the alien up. His heart plunged. It could have been over. He could have joined his beloved and his daughter in the afterlife.   
  
The black moved forward to him and his eyes were able to barely recognize the form as an intricately tattooed woman. "Not yet," she murmured, her voice like water over thorns. She smiled; maybe it was his grief, but he thought her teeth looked like fangs. "Oh, no; there's still much to be done before you join_ them."   
  
--------   
  
"Brigga tress have healing components," the illusion told Jaina for the third time. "Brigga leaves and bark – as a salve, you know," he insisted.   
  
Jaina really didn't care. Jacen had kept one or two of the trees in his Jedi Academy room, and she knew they were too fragile to use while attacking something. It made no difference, now, what Briggas did.   
  
"It will," the illusion offered.   
  
She groaned. "Sure I will. And maybe I'll start tap-dancing in a few moments."   
  
He gave a harmless grin. "I'm Molair, by the way."   
  
The name tickled at her memory, but Jaina shrugged it off. "I'm a captive, Molair; the only reason I want anyone's name is so that I'll know who I should seriously maim for this."   
  
"I'm sorry about that," Molair said contritely, watching sorrowfully as Jaina stumbled along.   
  
She glared. "Words without action," her pride retorted.   
  
They had approached a door, and Jaina took advantage of the pause. For a brief second, she considered escaping, but her muscles almost gave way at the thought. Besides, she didn't think she was clear-headed enough to plan anything or even find her way out.   
  
"Place the salve on the poison's entry point," Molair sang, smiling once more before the heavy doors sprung open.   
  
She didn't need to look over to know Molair was gone. Squaring her shoulders made her shudder in pain, but she stepped through the doors…and stared.

--------

---

-


	18. Rialom

**The Fic Critic** – waves New chapter below all these replies :)

**Ameri**: thanks :D And Zekk is most definitely mentioned evil grin I'm glad you like Garik – he's cool J

**Eowyn Skywalker**: I'm glad there's some curve balls in here – lets me know that there's hope yet for me :P And I'll try to remember about your site has the memory of a…well…short-term memory person Thanks!

-

**Die Another Day  
Chapter 18: Rialom**

-

The courtyard looked like an expensive diner if you ignored that the side opposite Jaina revealed a pool of something that looked very much like toxic waste. Everything was decorated in an almost suspiciously tasteful way, and the lighting would have sent interior decorators into spasms. But that wasn't what caught Jaina's attention.   
  
She took a step back and stood on tip-toe, trying to somehow change the image in her eyes. Instead, her new position only confirmed it: the clay floor was shaped to create a collage of scenes including Jedi – the Solo/Skywalker family, in particular.   
  
_What the sith?_   
  
She had a bad feeling about this.   
  
"Do you like it?" The voice almost squeaked hopefully. "Isn't it beautiful?"   
  
Her feet turned to jelly again, and Jaina had to fight to stay standing. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded, eyes flashing around the courtyard, trying to find the voice's owner.   
  
Out of the shadows, something crawled. At first she thought it was a beast, and then a crippled alien or human. When he came into the light, however, she realized that it was a man: a perfectly healthy, uncrippled man that, for some reason or another, insisted on staying crouched to the ground.   
  
When he looked up, she realized that this must be Rialom.   
  
"Master Solo?" the man – Rialom – whispered.   
  
"You need serious help, you know that?" Maybe insulting a psychopath wasn't the smartest thing to do, but Jaina had the poison in her brain as an excuse.   
  
Surprising her, Rialom nodded vigorously to her rhetorical question as he stood hesitantly. "Will you help me?" His eyes were glowing. "Master, will you train me, Master?" Up and up his voice went, until he was almost wailing.   
  
A dizzy spell – perhaps encouraged by Rialom – had sent Jaina to the ground. Her gaze, which was becoming slightly erratic, narrowed at Rialom's words. "Check yourself into a hospital, but don't expect me to train you." Rialom's eyes were wide with shock, and she continued. "I'd rather there be _no_ Jedi than a large number of them, and one unable to cope."   
  
Rialom's face became savage, and Jaina was sent flying in the air. "You'll die if you don't help me!" he snarled.   
  
She bounced when she landed on the cloth sun-shield that hung over a door, and all the air squeezed out of her lungs. Desperate, she tried to bring the Force to bear, but it was still blocked from her. Was it from the poison or the planet? As she clung to the roof, she decided it really didn't matter.   
  
"_You must train me!_" Rialom shrieked, panicked.   
  
_Never._   
  
"You'll die!" Rialom keened warningly, his voice becoming only slightly more confident. "I mixed the chemicals myself! No doctor will know the cure!"   
  
_I have very little to lose, Rialom. If it comes to that, I've fought for this galaxy long enough._   
  
Rialom's only response was to send her tumbling to the ground.

_----   
_

_A man, dark, powerful, appeared by her side. Torture waited in his eyes; death laughed in his stride. The two of them – the woman with fangs and the death-lover – watched him with glaring, intense eyes.   
  
And then his mind and body were torn apart and sent flying every which way.   
  
Only his soul and scraps of his flesh remained. With sadistic glee, the woman recreated him, twisted him, until nothing remained but a shell._

_----   
_

Molair wasn't there to greet him, and Tiran momentarily felt as if he had been hit between the eyes. Had Molair been delayed by Rialom? Worse, had Tiran…had he _imagined it all_? Tiran had hoped he was past that stage of grieving – seeing his loved ones across the room or on the street – but what if he wasn't?   
  
Thankfully, he was distracted from his thoughts when an irritated guard approached him. Although still disoriented by Molair's absence, Tiran was clear-headed enough to ask after Jaina. It turned out that the guard was short-tempered because of the same person for whom Tiran was looking.   
  
Reimbursing the man a little more than may have been required in overdue payment for his services, Tiran received information about Jaina's direction. The credits seemed to put the guard in a generous mood, because he also told Tiran of a Jedi monument that Jaina may have gone to.   
  
Almost immediately after the Jedi apprentice left the shipyard, the Force disappeared.   
  
Because he was still new to consciously feeling the Force, the absence caused little more than an emptiness, but Tiran's surprise was more potent. Wasn't the Force supposed to be constant? He'd heard, of course, about the Jedi being unable the feel the 'Vong through the Force, but…   
  
Anxious, Tiran took out his low-intensity, training 'saber and watched the shadows. He'd last two seconds against a Vong: even his healthy ego couldn't protect him from _that_ truth. The barbarous aliens were almost gone, what with the war unofficially over, but that didn't mean the Vong were slowing down.   
  
Tiran almost jumped out of his skin when an abnormally large lizard scuttled across his path. He stared dumbly at its exit point in the bush for a few moments, then burst out laughing. He was getting jumpier than an Ewok around a stranger.   
  
He was going to save Jaina. His brother was alive. The Force was even starting to trickle back a bit – he had no reason to be jumpy. Not yet, anyway, and adrenalin would probably take care of his face-off with this Rialom person.   
  
Tiran was a Jedi, after all, and hadn't everyone told him that the Jedi could do almost anything? They had the Force – _he_ had the Force.   
  
With a considerably lighter heart, Tiran continued down the path. In a surge of optimism, he reached out, searching for his master in the Force. He detected only wisps here and there, where she had lingered or experienced a particularly intense emotion, but he didn't let that get him down.  
  
Tiran was a Jedi, just like in Calair's favourite stories. Rialom was just one person – a freak, to boot. What could a helpless maniac do against an in-control Jedi hero?   
  
Absolutely nothing, that's what.

_  
----   
_

_He begged them to let him go, but their cruelty only increased until he could remember nothing that happened before. Everything existed around their mockery, the pain, the death that they repeatedly denied him.   
  
Every day, Leila and Trihs died before him. Every day he died and came back to life, which hated him.   
  
Everyday they told him that the only way he would escape was when the Jedi trained him, saved him.   
  
Like they planned, he would do anything to stop it all._

_----   
_

Tiran finally stopped for two reasons. First of all, Jaina's Force trail had ended; secondly, the mural stunned him so badly he almost fell over.   
  
A gold plaque on the floor dedicated the wall of artwork to the "Myrkr Strike Team", something Tiran only vaguely recalled as a small disaster for the Jedi. It had occurred at the same time as the fall of Coruscant, however, and the Holo reports had only briefly glossed over the Jedi event. The Force trickled through him, however, and belied the Holo-net reports: this is important, it said.   
  
Tiran studied the mural. He'd never been one for art – he liked things he could touch, feel, be sure of, and art tended to have deep meanings that he continued to miss. But there was only honest simplicity in this work, and he managed to understand it, if only because he had lived through something like it. The engravers hadn't tried to portray a second meaning – or, if they had, it wasn't immediately obvious.   
  
He recognized only Jaina in the mural, though two of the men looked vaguely familiar, but her portrayal caught and kept his attention. She seemed to be fighting multiple enemies – the Vong in front of her, the one attacking a team member behind, and pain – which, he realized immediately, was still true today.   
  
Over her shoulder, however, someone – not the original artist – had scratched out the faint outline of a scarred face. Tiran's gut twisted.   
  
Rialom. It had to be.   
  
How long had he been planning this? And why?   
  
Icy fingers of dread clutched Tiran's throat, and he hurried along, hoping he wasn't too late, whatever Rialom planned.

_----   
_

_Then it happened. The Eclipse Massacre. Oh, how his tormentors dangled that in his face!   
  
"No one can save you now."   
  
"You are all ours."   
  
"You're all _mine_," the Other corrected.   
  
But they were wrong. He wept and nearly died of relief when he heard the news. One of the Jedi was still alive. She could – _would_ – train him. He wasn't lost.   
  
_She_ could save him._

_----   
_

When the Jedi monument wing had been left behind nearly an hour before, the air grew stale, and even if Jaina's trail hadn't stopped, Tiran would have been suspicious. Everything felt compressed, pushed down until the neglect was only too obvious. The silence was oppressing, and not even Tiran's footfalls made a sound.   
  
His search of the building proved fruitless (not that he wanted to look at any of it too closely) and the apprentice finally used the large door not only to expand his search, but to escape.   
  
It turned out, Tiran's subconscious was smarter than he had thought.   
  
Tiran came out to the courtyard, right next to a pool of thick, black sludge. Skirting around it carefully, he scanned the vicinity, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up in dread. All his visions of an easy victory vanished in the gloom that was cast over the otherwise picturesque scene.   
  
His outlook was not helped by seeing Jaina, bound and apparently unconscious, on a cloth overhang.   
  
Throwing caution to the wind, Tiran sprinted across the open area and pulled a table over. Stepping up onto it, he straightened until he could see her. "Jaina?" he ventured, shaking her shoulder gently.   
  
Her eyes opened slowly, wearily, and were rimmed with a white, flaky substance. "Tir…Tiran?" she muttered foggily.   
  
_Thank the stars!_ Tiran breathed a sigh of relief; she was alive. At least he had one thing to check off his list of worries. "What'd he do to you?" the dark-haired man murmured, fumbling with the bonds around her wrists.   
  
"I…he used a…dart. I think. I can't… It was…poison." Each word cost her, not only because her brain refused to supply the needed memories, but because her breathing was becoming more erratic.   
  
The cord gave way from her hands and he shuffled down the table, starting on the bonds around her feet. "Jaina!" His voice was sharp, deliberately an anchor to keep her awake. "Can you walk?"   
  
"I don't…" She swallowed and concentrated on keeping focus. "If I have to."   
  
He nodded more to himself than to her words. "Okay. Okay, we can do this."   
  
Jaina's eyes narrowed for a moment as she looked over Tiran's shoulder at a black form and furious visage. What was that? The connection was made too slowly and even before she managed to finish calling, "Look out!" in warning, her apprentice toppled to the ground with Rialom, furious, standing over him.

-

_QuickEdit hates me. Drop me a review and make this all worth it? bats eyes_

-Tjz  



	19. The Truth Shall Set You Free?

**Ameri** – Tiran and Jaina are their own cavalry, but don't worry about them – there's a lot going on that they don't know about…and some of it even works in their favour! As for your fic, I'll definitely try to get around to it; as I said in "Always", I'm going on vacation for two weeks, but I'll try to get to it when I get back :) 

**Eowyn Skywalker** – Rialom? Familiar? Either you wrote an insane bad guy, or your subconscious knows something you don't… ;)

* * *

**  
Die Another Day**  
**Chapter 19: The Truth Shall Set You Free?**

.

_They thought he was broken, and so they left him alone more. He was too far gone to even wonder at his luck.   
  
When they were away - the woman with fangs and the man death loved - he escaped. The Other couldn't stop him. Oh, how his soul cried with joy! He was free!   
  
Freedom - it made him faster than they could ever hope to be. Until they were gone, he hid with the salamanders that stole the Force. And then…   
  
Oh, then…   
  
He waited.   
  
For the Jedi.   
  
For the one who would save him, train him, end it.   
  
For his master._   
  
-----

"What the--? Molair!" Tiran's head spun and stars danced in front of his eyes, confusing him further. The only thing he was certain of, in fact, was that his older brother, for whatever reason, had just sent him tumbling to the stone ground - and it _hurt_.   
  
"Stay away from her!" Molair hissed, eyes wild.   
  
With effort, Tiran slowed down his world enough to stand. Why was Molair dressed like that - in rags? How much money had Molair settled for, when he decided to (reluctantly) help Rialom? What had Rialom _done_ to him?   
  
"What's wrong?" the dark-haired Jedi asked impatiently as he brushed himself off. Apparently, his fall had seriously affected his brain, because Tiran did not move to hug his brother like he had thought he would.   
  
For some reason, Tiran's adrenalin was shooting up to levels sky-high, and his lightsaber was ignited and at the ready in his hands.   
  
And for some reason, a second lightsaber - a _red_ lightsaber - snap-_hiss_ed to life in Molair's hands.   
  
Tiran went cold.   
  
"You're not taking my master," Rialom growled, then attacked.   
  
-----  
  
Everything was going so…slowly. It took Jaina hours to sit up and make her eyes properly see the ropes around her feet. The binding was loose, but the distant lightsabers crackled a thousand times before she managed to free her ankles.   
  
The use of so much effort had tired her, and she leaned back, only to put too much pressure on a rip in the fabric. With a cry that was more of a moan, Jaina plummeted to the ground.   
  
-----_  
  
Molair never meant to kill him. But he had so little already - why did the little thief have to try to steal his warmth, too?   
  
He was tired. Hopeless. Hungry. Thirsty.   
  
The thief would never steal again, and Molair found enough to buy a meal.   
  
But it cost him. Oh, did it ever.   
  
The_ blood_. It reminded him. Reminded him of _them_. Of the things they did, of the torture they put him through.   
  
His vision, his sanity, which had been recovering, turned backwards again. Spelling his name out on the dust didn't work as a calming technique anymore. "Molair" became "Airmol", then "Riamol", then "Rialom".   
  
His old name - backwards. It fit so well. He was pleased with the name. With his cleverness.   
  
He was Rialom._   
  
-----  
  
Breathing was an important part of being able to fight, but Tiran couldn't make his lungs work properly. Around him, everything blurred surreally even though he continued to fight instinctively.   
  
He tried to ignore what was happening, to avoid the connection. Maybe, he thought desperately, it was all just a bad dream. He'd wake up in a few minutes, look out the window, and see Calair running around in the yard with Trihs. He could almost smell his mother's sumptuous breakfast.   
  
Molair - Tiran's older, steady brother - simply could not be fighting him. They were too close for that, too perfectly fitted, like two puzzle pieces - one giving here, the other pulling back there.   
  
And there was absolutely no way that Molair was Rialom.   
  
Tiran's endeavour was in vain.   
  
Molair wouldn't - or couldn't - stand upright; he stayed hunched over, close to the ground like an animal that feared a beating, and his lightsaber thrusts were sloppy. Wild. Completely unlike Tiran's brother's methodical movements.   
  
But the shaggy blond-grey hair and blue eyes (even if they were now savage) were Molair's.   
  
The promises - "I'll help you save Jaina" - had been a ruse, and now Rialom was going to kill him.   
  
It wasn't the kind of reunion dreams were made of.   
  
-----  
  
Jaina's breath - when it came at all - came ragged. If the fight was continuing without her, she didn't know it. In - _si-i-i-igh_…out - gasp…in. Her rattling breath was the only sound she could hear properly. Everything else had become almost eerily calm, silent - something Jaina wasn't used to.   
  
The voices started, gently, quietly, right as the world became grey and…slowly…black.   
  
_Come to us. We will shelter you, soothe you, love you. Come._   
  
It was only the shade of a whisper, but Jaina started anyway. Who…?   
  
_You know us. You trust us. Once, we were Dead, too. Come to us: we will give you Life. Dear one, haven't you fought long enough?_   
  
Jaina gasped air in, and the colours of the universe reappeared. For a fraction of a second, she heard buzzing like irregular static. Was there a…bug somewhere by her ear?   
  
Her lungs squeezed and needed air again. But everything felt…soft…and her neck, where Rialom had injected the poison, no longer hurt. She was tired.   
  
Out of left field, she thought, _Garik? Where are you?_   
  
Even to her mind's ear, she sounded lost.   
  
Something - maybe her parents' DNA - ordered her to keep fighting, to stay alive.   
  
She was trying, but - do or do not. There is no try.   
  
Jaina didn't know if she could _do_ much of anything, anymore.   
  
-----  
  
"Molair, what happened to you?" It was the first thing Tiran had managed to say in the past fifteen minutes, but when Rialom/Molair only smiled crookedly and shuddered, the younger man knew that the effort had been wasted.   
  
Or so he thought: Tiran's question distracted the other, and the Jedi gained the upper hand he needed. With a few, carefully practiced moves, Tiran positioned his opponent so that Rialom was backed against the edge of the black pool.   
  
_Don't think about your brother. This is a faceless monster. Rialom. He is nothing. He hurt your master - your friend, maybe, someday. Molair is dead. This atrocity killed him._   
  
Telling himself that didn't change Rialom's appearance, or the ocean of hope and joy Tiran had experienced only a day ago.   
  
"What kind of poison did you use on Jaina?" Tiran demanded, his voice shaking as he held his lightsaber threateningly close to his brother's neck.   
  
Rialom stared at him with wide eyes, breathing as raggedly as Jaina was, in the corner. "Brigga," he muttered fearfully, the words so low and so mangled that Tiran could not hear them. "Ah, master. Poor, poor master…" He whimpered and stared at Jaina over Tiran's shoulder. "As a salve…didn't listen…"   
  
Abruptly, Rialom smiled, as if he had only just heard what Tiran asked. "Really!" he said proudly, almost sounding normal despite how his voice had to scrape up the walls of his throat to be heard. "I _created_ it."   
  
Tiran's heart sank. His brother was - _had been_ - a chemist; who knew if anyone would be able to discover a cure before…?   
  
He refused to think about it. Jaina would be okay.   
  
She _would_.   
  
"Alright, then," Tiran said past the lump in his throat. His hands were shaking. "What's the antidote? How long does she have before…?"   
  
Rialom's face settled into something genuine, sane, weary. "I'm sorry, Tir," he told his brother with sad eyes. "I really am."   
  
Tiran pulled back slightly, despite himself. What was he doing, threatening his brother with a lightsaber? Molair still held his own 'saber, but he wasn't using it. "Molair…"   
  
Rialom/Molair wouldn't meet Tiran's eyes as he spoke slowly, as if he was searching for the correct answer. "The antidote is - "   
  
And then his body jerked, stiffened, and he fell back into the black pool, where he sank before Tiran could blink.   
  
The sight of Molair's resigned, heartbroken eyes as he disappeared would haunt Tiran for the rest of his life.   
  
-----  
  
_All he wanted was to end it. Life had no meaning to him now. Why couldn't she understand that?   
  
But his nature denied it:_ You will live. You will suffer. You will never be free of them._   
  
Why wouldn't she save him?   
  
He just wanted his family back. Were they somewhere out there, stumbling through a living death, too?_

-----

--

Well, did I shock anyone with the Rialom/Molair revelation? Or was that mind-blowingly obvious? :p As for Molair's abrupt death…that will be explained. Eventually. Say, in two 'books'? ;P

Sorry this chapter is so short – it's the last one in Part 3. This will be the last chapter I post before I leave for my missions trip to Mexico. I'll be gone for about 2 weeks. If you want, while I'm gone, and if you haven't already, go and check out my new fic (well, trilogy, but its all under one link) **Always**.

_Please R&R!_

**-Tjz**


	20. Die Another Day

**Ameri** – I'm glad t have surprised you ;) Garik is back on Mon Cal (if I didn't make a mistake and say he's on Coruscant :P Stupid changing world capitals…) I name most of the Spirits in this next chapter… Who's your guess for the Other? I don't name her ; Thanks! :D

**Eowyn** – Thanks! :D And here's a nice, long chapter for you…and I'll get the epilogue up quickly, but the sequel might be a bit longer ;p

---

**Part Four: The Path Which Destiny Sets Before You  
**  
_And did you think this fool could never win  
Well look at me, I'm coming back again  
I got a taste of love in a simple way  
And if you need to know while I'm still standing you just fade away  
  
Don't you know I'm still standing better than I ever did  
Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid  
I'm still standing after all this time  
Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind  
  
I'm still standing yeah yeah yeah  
I'm still standing yeah yeah yeah_  
- "I'm Still Standing" by Elton John  
  
---  
  
**Chapter Twenty: Die Another Day ******

-

  
Feeling completely unreal, Tiran stumbled over to where he had last seen his master. He was too spent to so much as sigh when he found her, twisted in a broken position against the wall. Her chest raised shallowly every now and then, one of the very few evidences of her continued life.  
  
If this was what the Force gave to the lives of Jedi, Tiran wanted nothing to do with it.  
  
Calling her name several times brought no more response than fluttering eyelids or a faint moan, and Tiran's heart settled somewhere around his toes.  
  
_I'm sorry, Garik._  
  
Picking her up carefully, hearing her bones crack and settle every time she shifted, Tiran sprinted for the ship.  
  
It was Calair all over again.

------------

_"She is coming to us," the Second Said ecstatically. "She is coming!"  
  
The Third and the Ninth looked up in unison, then turned to regard each other. The Sword was dying? But if she died, then who…?  
  
The Third was the first to accept it; he was going to be reunited with his twin! Such connections meant so little now, but nothing could annul the closeness they had once shared.  
  
The Sword appeared vaguely before them, her spirit beginning to cross the barrier between dimensions. "Where am I?" she murmured sleepily, blinking at the atmosphere and the forms of light before her.  
  
The Fourth took a form familiar to the Sword and stepped forward awkwardly. "You Live," she Said.  
  
Jaina squinted, then began to tremble. "Lusa? Is that you?"  
  
The Fourth smiled and opened her arms. "It is I. We are all here." The old way of speech was cumbersome to her tongue, but she endured it for her old friend.  
  
" 'We'?" Jaina squeaked.  
  
The others stepped forward – the First and the Third hurrying forth the fastest. "Jaina, come," the First begged, beaming brighter for his joy.  
  
Her face became white, but now it was not just because life/Death was fleeing from her body. "Anakin."  
  
The First tried to give her a hug – something he remembered from Before – but couldn't quite manage it. "Yes," he Said instead.  
  
Her eyes flicked over to the Third. "And…Jacen?"  
  
For some reason, the Third succeeded where the others had failed, and he held her close. "Welcome, sister."_

--------

Tiran supposed he shouldn't be piloting so quickly when he was still a green pilot, but he only continued to push the ship to its limits. Jaina had crossed into a coma two hours into the trip, and Tiran was quite sure that wasn't a good thing.  
  
Jaina had barely touched the topic of using the Force to heal, but what little he knew – mostly to do with cuts and speeding up the natural healing process – Tiran used. He'd called Garik and managed to tell him to make sure a med-vehicle was ready to meet them upon arrival. Anything that he said after would never be remembered.  
  
With helplessness descending on him, Tiran's only pastime was to remember everything he had done wrong, every cruel word he had thrown at his master, and all the old memories of Molair before…well, before. He had lost many, many people – his _home planet_ – before, and he wasn't ready to lose another. Unfortunately, he couldn't escape the feeling that he had best be planning his apology to Garik.

---------

_The only Spirits who picked up on Jaina's distress were the Third and the Ninth – Jacen and Sanar, respectively. The others were too overjoyed (they were going to be One!) to notice much.  
  
"Where is…?" Jaina's voice trailed away and she rubbed her arms to stay warm.  
  
The Third had forgotten that he was cold. "Zekk is not with us, Jaina."  
  
Her right arm, which had been broken in Death/life, came up as she rubbed her head. It wasn't as tender anymore. The Ninth noticed that Jaina was becoming more solid in their world.  
  
She would have to move quickly.  
  
"You are not meant to be here yet," the Ninth Said sharply. "You have your own part to play."  
  
Jaina's expression was a cross between plaintive and relieved, but the others burst out in anger.  
  
The Second tried to lead Jaina to their side as she Said, "Destiny is cruel. Very cruel. Let it find someone else to agonize."  
  
"It_ can't_ be someone else," the Ninth Said, her voice razor-sharp.  
  
Jaina took a step back, her eyes resting on her brothers for a moment before meandering back to the Ninth. "It's too late now, though, isn't it?" she said dejectedly. "I'm dead."  
  
All nine Spirits frowned at her ignorance (calling Life death, really!) but the Ninth shook her head. "No."  
  
"No?" Jaina repeated hopefully.  
  
"You must choose."  
  
Jaina took a step backwards, and her arm started to twist into its original, pretzel like shape.  
  
"Ja—Jaina, come on," the Sixth Said, panicking a little. "What are you doing? Don't you want to stay with us?"  
  
The majority of the others could only look on, stunned. None of them could believe that she was even thinking of turning down Life – and with them, too! Hadn't she missed them, as they had longed to be reunited with her?  
  
The Third and the Ninth just looked sad._

----------

Garik held the Brigga plant closer than a baby, but no one had the heart to tell that to the upset diplomat. Jaina and Tiran had arrived at the Mon Calamari med-bay landing platform just an hour ago, but the doctors were already at their wits' end. The broken bones and abrasions, they could handle. The poison, however, was something else entirely.  
  
The chemical mixture Rialom had created moved too quickly—had too much of a head start—for them to hope for a cure's quick discovery. Garik had nearly exploded when he was informed, and Tiran envied the man for being able to let his emotions out. All he could feel was numbness spreading through his body.  
  
It was happening again.  
  
When he had heard about Lin-Ta, all Tiran could think was that it was a joke. A sadistic prank. He had raced off – jacked a ship he barely knew how to pilot – and set his course for his home. All he had found was destruction and the dead feeling in his gut. He hadn't been able to do anything – hadn't even been able to help a single person breathe their last a little easier. They'd all been stone cold or charred through to a crisp by the time he arrived.  
  
It was the same with Jaina, only this time he couldn't do anything because he was useless, ignorant about anything to do with healing, and too slow to get her to a hospital in time.  
  
If only Garik would shut his eyes, go away, Tiran might be able to pretend that this wasn't as bad as Lin-Ta. That no one's world was ending. That no one would be forever altered by this.  
  
But Tiran knew it was happening in his eyes too: he was seeing his future changed. He would never be a Jedi, if Jaina died, but he would also lose someone he respected, maybe even cared for.  
  
When Tiran tried to close his eyes, Garik's pain and Jaina's dying still wouldn't disappear.

--------

_"It will be a long time," the Third Said slowly, "if you go."  
  
Jaina took another step back. "I have to; I – I have people who need me." To everyone, including herself, she sounded like she was trying to convince herself.  
  
The Ninth glared at the others. "She is correct; you know this." She stepped forward, as far as she could toward the living/Dying world. "But I will not make you go alone, uncertain."  
  
Carefully, almost reluctantly, the Ninth held out her hand. "Hold on, just for a little longer, Jaina," she said between painful gasps. "I can't go any farther into your world. Reach out to me. Just for a moment."  
  
Jaina stared at the offered hand, then clasped it tightly. Immediately, both were sucked into a vacuum.  
  
"Watch," the Ninth said, connecting her gaze with Jaina's, her eyes the only steady thing in the swirl and chaos of the future. "Watch."  
  
Jaina did._

----------

"Did Rialom say _anything_ that might help?" Garik pleaded for the fifth time in the past sixteen hours. He looked ready to fall into a coma himself.  
  
Tiran avoided Garik's eyes as he racked his brains again – as if he would remember something now that had eluded him before. "No. He only said he was sorry. He fell back before he could tell me about the antidote."  
  
Garik finally set his plant down next to Jaina. "It is originally from Yavin 4," he explained, gesturing toward the brush. "I knew she missed it, so I was going to…recreate the praxeum at Cryta – in her rooms, at least." His eyes squeezed tight for a minute. "I suppose…now…she will be too busy with her family and friends to care about some stupid _plant_."  
  
Tiran did not respond. Garik had just said what both knew: Jaina wouldn't care about much of anything, soon.  
  
With a curse, Garik stormed out of the room. Part of Tiran wished he could escape, too. The other part, however, knew that Garik's attempts to flee were in vain.  
  
------

_Jaina couldn't breathe – something that she supposed should be troubling to her. She was too close to death. But she was flying, high above trouble and grief, with only Sanar's hand to steady her. Before, with her dead friends and brothers, she had been too upset to realize the warmth of the Force that surrounded her.  
  
The freedom – the_ life_!  
  
Sanar squeezed her hand, bringing Jaina's attention to the left of them. The young woman watched and saw the glimpses of the future that Sanar had chosen.  
  
Garik: laughing, teasing. Jaina thought, for a moment, that she felt arms tighten around her in an embrace. Love. Friendship.  
  
Safety.  
  
Tiran: in front of her, holding a lightsaber, ready for a practice duel. "You're not going soft on me now, are you?" he mocked with a smirk.  
  
A violet-haired woman: rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Can I whack him, already?"  
  
Two children: one boy and one girl, running up to her. Jaina missed the title they used for her, and her eyes were too blurred with tears to see their features.  
  
"This," Sanar Said, "is your destiny. Never let it go. Never let_ them_ go."  
  
Then Sanar's hand loosened its grip, and Jaina spiralled back toward life – and pain._

--------

"Did she just twitch?"  
  
Tiran wanted to take the words back as soon as he said them. He was only awake because of the caf, and he was halfway into a coma himself from exhaustion and worry. Of course Jaina hadn't twitched. His eyes were playing tricks on him.  
  
But, like always, Garik's head shot up hopefully, despite the number of wrong, previous "signals".  
  
The two men watched her for several moments, but not even their imaginations could make her breathing regulate, or the machines beat normally.  
  
Garik slumped back into his chair with a sigh. His fingers tapped the arm of his chair nervously before saying, "I wonder if she knows the antidote. Criminals _have_ been known to gloat to their victims."  
  
Tiran's chrono clicked a few times. "I don't know how to pick her mind, if that's what you want."  
  
Garik only stared ahead at the potted tree that he had yet to move from Jaina's side. The leaves were shading her face from view, which may or may not have been on purpose. It hid her bandaged visage.  
  
Well, Tiran admitted silently, it wasn't as if she would suffer if he did something wrong. With a sigh, he pulled his chair over to her bed side, by the plant. Ignoring Garik, the apprentice concentrated on the Force within and around his master.  
  
Her aura felt dulled – still powerful, in brute force, but losing the edge—the alertness—that Tiran had felt previously. That worried him as much as the series of pauses and quick-repetition-beats that her heart monitor sounded.  
  
With a deep breath, Tiran began feeling his way around the shields that protected her against outside influences. Parts of the walls flaked off or gave way, but his probing was otherwise too careful to push past.  
  
Tiran demolished her remaining shields. Jaina would kill him if she ever found out, but maybe Garik would hold her back, if the apprentice's search was successful.

_What…are you doing?_  
  
The voice was almost monotone, dead, but still dangerous. Tiran swallowed.  
  
_Jaina?  
  
…Yes?  
  
Uh, did Rialom…did he tell you anything about the poison?_  
  
A pause. _Why?  
  
Garik and I need to find some kind of cure.  
  
Oh…  
  
Jaina? Do you know the antidote?_  
  
She didn't respond for a long, flat moment in which she seemed to drift even farther away than before. Then, as suddenly as she had disappeared, Jaina _flooded_ back into herself.  
  
_Lee-droy! Are you okay? What happened?_ Then, _You_ cracked my shields_?! You are **so** dead.  
  
Jaina. Antidote. **Now**._  
  
Her response was as slow as if her brain was filled with goo, despite her previous, reflexive sarcasm. _Brigga…something. I think it was the…make a salve out of Brigga leaves and the – bark. You're supposed to apply it to the poison's entry point – er, that'd be the hole on the back of my neck. That's all Molair told me, though.  
  
**Molair** told you? Not Rialom?  
  
What, did you think Rialom was sane – or insane – enough to help me? Really, Lee-droy._  
  
Tiran was too dumbfounded to respond.  
  
_Tiran?  
  
Uh, Brigga bark and leaves. Salve. Neck hole. Got it._  
  
He couldn't escape the impression that she was smirking. _It'll be fine, kid. Really._  
  
In a few hours, she proved to be both correct and asleep.

--------

It was either Garik or a copper-and-green blob created by the Vong to stare her into another coma.  
  
"We really need to stop reuniting like this."  
  
_Garik. Definitely._ Jaina forced her eyes to open. If she squinted, she could just make out her friend's features. "Maybe you should take more vacations."  
  
"I even went so far as to _plan_ a break," her companion said dryly, none of his previous concern showing in his voice. Some things did not need a confession. "As it is, the new Jedi home has been neglected to accommodate a certain Jedi who decided to get herself almost killed. Your loss, though: the estate is much nicer than this antiseptic nightmare."  
  
"Yeah, well, get used to it." It was as close as she'd ever come to admitting – at the moment – that she planned to make sure he would stick around.  
  
Garik didn't reply for a moment, but then she felt him take her right hand. "I was under the impression that the kidnappings were a childhood adventure. Certainly, the bounties on us both dropped somewhat once it became obvious that we were as much trouble as our parents. What, pray tell, is your excuse for breaking tradition?"  
  
She grinned and shifted up on the bed until she was somewhat upright against her pillow. "What can I say? Perfection never comes off the market."  
  
He was become a little clearer, and Jaina thought she saw Garik roll his eyes as he changed the subject. "Although it seems unreasonable to me, your apprentice refuses to sleep until he sees you. Shall I let him in?"  
  
She moved further up the bed, thanking Garik when he helped her sit up straight. "May as well. I suppose even Coruscant needs to give in, once in a while."  
  
He was snickering. Jaina knew it, but she didn't give Garik the pleasure of a response. Instead, she folded her blanket back and said, "Well? You going to get him?"  
  
"Of course, _Coruscant_." Her hair spilled into her face when he ruffled it before walking away, chuckling.  
  
She took the opportunity to rub her eyes and when she looked up again, Jaina was able to make out the mostly-correct image of her apprentice. "You look like hell," she blurted out.  
  
Through the Force, she felt him scowl. "You're really not the one to talk, Princess."  
  
Coruscant, apparently, needed to work on her peace treaties. Jaina took a deep breath and released it vehemently. _Just get it over with._ "Tiran."  
  
He quirked an eyebrow defensively. "_Jaina_."  
  
"We really got off on the wrong foot."  
  
Tiran stared at her as if she was some kind of puzzle that needed deciphering. "To put it mildly."  
  
She bore his stare; as she had with Ganner and Jacen, she recognized Tiran's defence mechanism: sarcasm. "What do you say to starting over?"  
  
"Unless you got a time machine for your birthday, Princess…"  
  
In a flash, her sight returned. The first thing to gain complete focus was Tiran, watching her with a mixture of hope and fear. Impulsively, she held out her hand. "Hi. My name is Jaina Solo. I'm not much of a Jedi, but I'll do my best. Can't promise much else."  
  
His stare shifted from her eyes to her hand, then, as if it had a will of its own, his own hand reached out and shook hers. "I'm Tiran Lee-droy – just Tir, to my friends. I'm going to do my best to annoy you, but I don't _really_ hate the Jedi…and that's something, isn't it?"  
  
Jaina smiled. "It's enough."  
  
_For now._  
  
----  
  
_I'm gonna break the cycle  
I'm gonna shake up the system  
I'm gonna destroy my ego  
I'm gonna close my body now  
  
I think I'll find another way  
There's so much more to know  
I guess I'll die another day  
It's not my time to go  
  
For every sin, I'll have to pay  
A time to work, a time to play  
I think I'll find another way  
It's not my time to go_  
- "Die Another Day" by Madonna

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There's still an epilogue, but otherwise…that's it for DAD! I'm not sure yet when I'll start posting the sequel ("Heart of a Jedi"), but the wait shouldn't be much longer than a month, I think…

-Tjz


	21. Epilogue

**Ameri** – You guessed it! The Other is Sanar.... Since I haven't posted anything with her as a big character on this site, I thought you wouldn't get it. Kudos! As for leaving writing....HA! Fanfiction might get left behind at some point, but writing is so much a part of me I couldn't stop if I wanted to :P

**Eowyn** – There will definitely be a sequel :P If I complete the whole series, Phoenix will be a trilogy with a companion trilogy called "Children of Destiny". So it'll be long ;p Thanks :D.

* * *

.

**Die Another Day:  
Epilogue**

It was too much — too much to live through any longer. He couldn't. So much — too much. Eventually, everyone had a limit. He had lasted longer than many of the others. Much longer. Maybe he had had something to fight for, but who knew what _that_ was? Who knew if he was even in his sane mind, anymore?  
  
_I'm sorry,_ he thought, but he didn't know who he was talking to. He never did.  
  
His defiance streamed from him as his blood had, and the fight began to leave him. But then —  
  
Pain. Terror. It screamed in his mind, but not from him. _Not from him!_ He flailed, held on for just a moment longer. He had to know. Was this what he had waited for? Was this why he fought?  
  
Millimetre by painful millimetre, he stretched out and _grabbed_ where he had once felt the Force. So little reached him, but it was enough—he hoped. He didn't know much of anything, anymore.  
  
_Let it be enough._  
  
The beast that held him stretched, pulled, tried to drag the last remnants of his life from him. _You are all mine,_ it seemed to say.  
  
_Not yet,_ an old part of him chided, surprising even himself. _Not yet._ His grasp of the Force was clumsy and painstaking, but he found it: the life whose emotions he had felt. He didn't have time to stop, to sift, to see if he remembered anything. All he could do was let the life's distress pull him forward, close to it.  
  
Close to her?  
  
_Brown eyes. Rushing water. "You can be my…anytime." "Isn't it…turn to…?"  
  
You can be my what? Isn't it what?_  
  
The memories distracted him, and the beast began to tear him apart in earnest.  
  
_I'm so sorry._ All he could give was one last caress, one last touch, and even that confused him. Who knew what it meant? Who knew what it had once meant – to him, to her?  
  
The beast pulled his spirit back into his body, where it tore, ripped, ate. It liked flesh, but the Others controlled it so he could always recover — within reason. _You're mine._  
  
For the first time, in a very, very long time Zekk felt his lips struggle…shake…and form a weak smile. It came to him, then — her name. _Her_ name. For a second, he remembered.  
  
_Goodbye, Jaina._ His final words before he let go. 

And so it began.

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So, what did you all think of my lovely, final twist? Who was surprised?

Please R&R!

-Tjz 


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